[UHI7EESIT7] 


THE   TRAMP  AT   HOME 


BY 


LEE    ^lERIWETHER 

SPECIAL   AGENT  OF  THE   U.  S.  DEPARTMENT  OF   LABOR 

AUTHOR  OF    "A  TRAMP  TRIP  ;   OR,  HOW  TO  SEE  EUROPE 
ON  FIFTY  CE>TS  A  DAY" 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    FRANKLIN    SQUARE 

1889 


Copyright,  1889,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  riyftti  reitrved. 


PREFACE. 


HERBERT  SPENCER  argues  that  if  left  to  themselves 
private  individuals  would  perceive  what  measures  are 
desirable  for  their  welfare,  and  would  carry  out  such 
measures  without  the  intervention  of  Government. 
This  will  not  always  hold.  Certainly,  were  the  collec 
tion  of  statistics  left  to  private  enterprise,  few  would  be 
collected.  An  enthusiastic  individual  might  be  found 
here  and  there  hunting  data  concerning  his  particular 
hobby ;  there  might  be  enthusiasts  upon  all  questions 
of  public  importance,  but  their  efforts  would  be  desul 
tory,  would  lack  combination,  and  the  results,  as  far  as 
the  public  is  concerned,  would  be  almost  nothing. 

The  importance  which  the  "  Labor  Question  "  has  at 
tained  is  evidenced  in  no  more  striking  way  than  by  the 
establishment  of  labor  bureaus  for  the  collection  of  sta 
tistics  bearing  especially  upon  labor.  Massachusetts  was 
the  first  State  to  establish  such  a  bureau.  Her  example 
has  been  generally  followed,  until  now  more  than  half 
the  States  in  the  Union,  and  also  the  General  Govern 
ment  at  Washington,  have  departments  engaged  in  the 
special  work  of  gathering  data  concerning  labor. 

That  such  information,  if  accurate,  is  valuable,  will 
not  be  denied.  If  data  be  obtained  for  a  number  of 
years  showing,  for  instance,  the  direct  and  indirect  ef- 


VI  PREFACE. 

feet  of  strikes — whether  they  are  followed,  directly  or 
indirectly,  by  gain  or  loss — such  data  would  afford  ma 
terial  for  valuable  deductions,  and  would  probably  have 
an  effect  on  the  frequency  or  infrequency  of  strikes. 

I  spent  upwards  of  a  year  in  the  kingdoms  of  the  Old 
World  studying  the  condition  of  working-men.  After 
submitting  a  report  to  the  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics 
at  Washington,  embodying  the  results  of  my  observa 
tions  in  Europe,  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior  appointed 
me  as  a  special  agent  to  obtain  similar  information  in 
America. 

The  dry  statistics  gathered  in  my  travels  as  special 
agent  have  been  submitted  to  the  Department.  The 
following  pages  contain,  not  the  dry  figures,  but  a  few 
of  the  incidents — amusing  and  otherwise — that  befell 
me  in  my  intercourse  with  the  working-classes  of  Amer 
ica,  together  with  a  brief  account  of  a  journey  to  the 
Sandwich  Islands  undertaken  in  connection  with  an  in 
vestigation  into  the  condition  of  sailors. 

One  or  two  chapters  of*  the  present  matter  have  al 
ready  appeared  in  HARPER'S  WEEKLY  and  HARPER'S 
MAGAZINE.  The  rest  is  now  in  print  for  the  first  time. 

LEE  MERIWETHEK. 
ST.  Louis,  December,  1888. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN. 
CONDITION    OF    WORKING  -  WOMEN. —  SUSPICIOUS    OF    GOVERNMENT    AGENTS. — 

WHAT  is  WOMAN'S  "  SPIIKRE  ?" — THE  POOR  IN  BROOKLYN.* — MISTAKEN  FOR 

AN    INSURANCE    AGENT. — A    NIGHT   ON    THE    BOWERY. — POLITICAL    ECONOMY 
IN   A  BATH-TUB Page    1 

CHAPTER  II. 

FACTORY  LIFE. 

THREAD  A  THOUSAND  MILES  LONG. — HOW  LACE  IS  MADE. — GIRLS  AT  A  COOK 
ING-SCHOOL.— ONE  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY  GIRL-PRISONERS  IN  THE  BROOKLYN 
PENITENTIARY. A  BROOKLYN  TAPESTRY-WEAVER. WHY  A  BAGGING  MANU 
FACTURER  WANTS  PROTECTION 21 

CHAPTER  III. 

IN  NEW  ENGLAND. 

HOW  FACTORY  OPERATIVES  LIVE   AND  WORK  ;    THEIR  HOME  LIFE. — AN   ITALIAN 

AND   AN    AMERICAN   FAMILY    COMPARED. —  SMALL   ECONOMIES. A    ONE-CENT 

ICE-CREAM  SALOON.— CRUEL   RESULTS  OF   CHILD-LABOR. — CONSUMPTION   AND 
INSANITY  ON  THE  INCREASE 36 

CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW  ENGLAND— Continued. 

THE  KIND  OF  LITERATURE  FACTORY  PEOPLE  READ. BOARDING-HOUSE  KEEPERS. 

— I  FIND  A  BABY  IN   THK  WEEDS. — SAINTS  AND  FOUNDLINGS. LIFE  OF  THE 

NUNS. — AMONG  THE  SHAKERS. — THEIR  CURIOUS  WORSHIP  AND  DANCES.  .    48 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  V. 

IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 

THE  SNUFF-DRUMMER. A  MANUFACTURER  WHO  WAS  "AGIN  THE  GOVERNMENT." 

CONDITION  OF  LABORERS  IN  NEW  ORLEANS. A  GLIMPSE  OF  ITALY  AND  THE 

TEMPLE    OF   VESTA. WHY    GIRLS    DISLIKE    DOMESTIC    SERVICE. — MISERABLE 

PAY  AND  CONDITION  OF  SEWING-WOMEN. — INFLUENCE  OF  THE  LOTTERY. NO 

MONEY  FOR  BREAD,  BUT  ALWAYS  A  DOLLAR  FOR  THE  LOTTERY Page    58 

CHAPTER  VI. 

AMONG  SOUTHERN  FARMERS. 

AN   ANCIENT    ACADEMY. — TUSCULUM,  NAMESAKE    OF   CICERO'S    VILLA. — LIVING 

ON  TWENTY  CKNTS    A   DAY. INDEPENDENCE  OF   THE    MOUNTAIN    FARMERS. 

HOW    COTTON    IS    RAISED    ON    SHARES. SKETCHES    OF    FARM    LIFE    IN    EAST 

TENNESSEE. A  RELIGIOUS  MEETING  WHERE  THE  WOMEN  WASHED  THE  MEN'S 

FEET,  AND  THE  MEN  SWAPPED  HORSES 73 

CHAPTER  VII. 

AMONG  SOUTHERN  FARMERS— Continued. 

THE  "  KING  OF  CORN  COVE." — LIFE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. — THE  'SPRISE  DANCE 
AT  SAMANTHA'S.  —  WHY  BILL  CALLED  HIM  A  SNEAK.  —  MOUNTAIN  ETI 
QUETTE 82 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  NIGHT  ON  THE  DEVIL'S  NOSE. 

LOST   ON   THE    MOUNTAIN.  —  MISTAKEN   FOR   A   REVENUE- OFFICER. IMPRISONED 

IN  A  CAVE. — HOW  I  ESCAPED. — A  PIOUS  MOONSHINER. — I  RIDE  INTO    NORTH 
CAROLINA 88 

CHAPTER  IX. 

IN  TEXAS. 

A  GIFTED  LIAR. — HOW  HE  ASTONISHED  LORD  PALMERSTON  AND  THE  QUEEN. — 
HOW  HE  FILLED  GENERAL  HANCOCK  WITH  WATERMELON  AND  SAVED  THE 
REBEL  ARMY. — TEXAS  COWBOYS,  THEIR  WAGES  AND  ROUGH  LIFE. — THE  CAT 
TLE  KINGS  OF  THE  PANHANDLE. A  TRIP  INTO  MEXICO. — CONDITION  OF  LABOR 

IN  THE  MEXICAN  REPUBLIC. — THE  CUSTOMS-OFFICERS  ON  THE  FRONTIER.  .    97 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  X. 
LABOR  STRIKES  AND  UNIONS. 

THEIR  EDUCATIONAL  EFFECT. — GREAT  INTEREST  TAKEN  BY  WORKING-PEOPLE 
IN  ECONOMIC  QUESTIONS. FALLACIES. MR.  POWDERLY  AND  THE  BEER  BOT 
TLES. —  THE  HILLS  AND  HOLLOWS  OF  KANSAS  CITY. —  WHY  "TREATING" 
FOSTERS  DRUNKENNESS  AND  RUINS  WORKING-MEN. — INTERVIEWS  WITH  ST. 

LOUIS  LABORERS Page  107 

CHAPTER  XI. 

HOW  NAILS  ARE  MADE. 

A  BIG  STRIKE. — COAL-MINERS. — THEIR   GLOOMY  LIFE. — A    MAN   WHO    BELIEVED 

IN   INSULATION. — WHY  THE  POLAR-BEAR  FROZE. THE    LADY    COOK. — LIVING 

BY  ABSORPTION.— A  NIGHT  ON  PIKE'S  PEAK.— A  MORMON  PEDESTRIAN.  .    126 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THROUGH  THE  NORTH-WEST  TERRITORY. 

BY  BUCK -BOARD,  BOAT,  AND  STAGE. GOVERNMENT  "REQUESTS." A  CON 
DUCTOR  WHO  WANTED  TO  EJECT  ME. THE  CHINESE  GARDENS  IN  PORTLAND. 

UP    THE    COLUMBIA. LOGGING    IN   WASHINGTON   TERRITORY. A    FOREST 

FIRE. WE    HAVE   TO    CLEAR   THE    WAY. THE    INLETS    OF    PUGET    SOUND. 

A  FLOATING  PHOTOGRAPHER 141 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

ADVENTURES  IN  IDAHO  AND  NEVADA. 

A   RED-BEARDED    MAN    WHO  DEMANDED    AN    EXPLANATION. — CLOTH    AND   PAPER 

HOTELS. ROUTED     BY    ROACHES. —  RUINOUS     INTEREST    PAID    BY    WESTERN 

FARMERS. — A  HARDWARE  DRUMMER    DISCOMFITED.  —  A  HOLE  IN  THE  GROUND 

TWO    THOUSAND    FEET    DEEP. AN    ENGLISHMAN    WHO    HAD    BIRD    ON    THE 

BRAIN. — WESTERN  STAGE-COACH  DRIVERS 155 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CALIFORNIA. 
THE  "LABOR  QUESTION "  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST. — UNSETTLED  CONDITIONS. — 

MILLIONAIRES,  PAUPERS,  AND  DISCONTENT. GREEK  SCHOLARS  AT  WORK  SIDE 

BY    SIDE   WITH    CHINAMEN. A    WAITER    WHO    DOES    NOT   PEEL    POTATOES. 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHINESE  LABOR  UNIONS. — THEIR  STRIKES  AND  BOYCOTTS. — PHOTOGRAPHING 
UNDERGROUND  DENS  BY  AID  OF  ELECTRIC  LIGHTS. —  FRIGHTENED  MONGO 
LIANS. AT  A  CHINESE  FUNERAL. — BAKED  PIG  AND  BIRDS'  NESTS. MUST  THE 

CHINESE  GO  ? Page  167 

CHAPTER  XV. 

CALIFORNIA— Continued. 

THE  MYTHICAL  CITIES  OF  THE  GOLDEN  GATE. — HOW  LAND  IS  MONOPOLIZED,  AND 

WHY  WAGES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST  ARE  GROWING  SMALLER. A  PACK-MULE  TRIP 

OVER  THE  COAST  RANGE  MOUNTAINS.— A  FRONTIERSMAN    RIDING    COW-BACK. 

— LOCATING  A  TIMBER  CLAIM. REAL-ESTATE  SPECULATIONS  ON    THE    SANDY 

PLAINS  OF  SAN  DIEGO. — CALIFORNIA  HOSPITALITY. — HYDRAULIC  MINING. — 
HUNTING  BEAR  WITH  SIBERIAN  BLOOD-HOUNDS 193 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

SAILOKS'  WOES. 

RAILROADS    VERSUS    PEOPLE. —  TWO    OPPOSITE  VIEWS. ORIGIN  OF   THE    LABOR 

BUREAU. —  CARROLL    D.   WRIGHT,    COMMISSIONER    AND    STATISTICIAN. —  THE 

SEAMEN'S  STRIKE. — HOW  POOR  JACK  is  TREATED. — EXTRACTS  FROM  TESTI 
MONY  GIVEN  IN  THE  OFFICIAL  INVESTIGATION 203 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  SAILOR'S  STORY. 

CRUEL  TREATMENT  AFLOAT  AND  ASHORE. BEATEN  WITH  A  BELAYING-PIN  AND 

LOCKED  IN  THE   DARK-HOLE. — HOW  MEN  ARE   SHIPPED 215 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  SAILOR'S  STORY— Continued. 

PICKLING  A  CHINAMAN. — THE  CREW  MUTINY. — ESCAPE  TO  A  TROPICAL  ISLAND. 
WORK  SECURED  ON  A  SUGAR  PLANTATION. — THE  SAILOR  BECOMES  A  LAW 
YER  AND  WINS  A  WIFE 224 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

A    TROPICAL    TRIP. 

INCIDENTS  OF  THE  VOYAGE. — A  BURIAL  AT  SEA. — THE  PASSENGER  WHO  WAS 
"A  BIT  PUT  ABOUT,"  AND  THE  TALL  MISSIONARY. — CURIOUS  SCENE  OFF  THE 


CONTENTS.  XI 

>  A  MOAN  ISLANDS. — LABOR  ON  THE  SANDWICH  ISLANDS. — EFFECTS  OF  THE 
CONTRACT  SYSTEM. — ILLUSTRATION  OF  GEORGE'S  LAND  THEORY. —LIFE  AND 
LABOR  ON  SUGAR  PLANTATIONS Page  234 

CHAPTER  XX. 

TWO    VOLCANOES. 

A  NIGHT  ON  THE  VERGE  OF  SHEOL.— THE  AWFUL  FIRES  OF  KILAUEA. — IN  THE 
IAO  VALLEY. —  THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDERS. —  WE  BECOME  LOST  IN  THE 
CRATER  OF  A  VOLCANO „ 253 

CHAPTER  XXL 

AN  ISLAND  OF  LEPERS. 

WRETCHES    BANISHED  FROM  THE   WORLD  ;   THEY   DIG  THEIR    OWN    GRAVES,  AND 

GIVE  "COFFIN  SOCIABLES"  TO  RAISE  FUNDS  WHEREWITH  TO  PURCHASE 
COFFINS. — FIGHT  WITH  A  SHARK. — AH  FOO's  EXPANSIVE  FAMILY 264 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

BANQUETING   WITH  A  KING. 
ROYALTY'S  HULA-HULA   GIRLS   AND  THEIR  VOLUPTUOUS  DANCES. — TROPICAL 

ORGIES. — A    PIG  STUFFED  WITH    THREE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND   SILVER    DIMES. 

— WHY  THE   CAUCASIANS  REVOLTED. TRAVELLERS  NOT  ALLOWED  TO  LEAVE 

THE  KINGDOM  UNTIL  THEIR  DEBTS  ARE  PAID 274 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
CONCLUSION. 

LABOR  BUREAUS  SHOW,  BUT  WHO  WILL  IMPROVE,  THE  CONDITION  OF  LABOR  ? 
— THE  FIVE  METHODS  COMMONLY  URGED  FOR  BENEFITING  WORKING-MEN 
ONLY  MAKESHIFTS. — THE  REAL  REMEDY - 284 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


*l  PAGE 

An  Opium  Den Frontispiece 

Brooklyn  Tobacco-strippers 13 

The  Brooklyn  Cooking-school 23 

Homes  of  the  Poor 29 

Foundling  Children  Eating  Dinner 53 

Shaker  Worship 56 

A  Poor  Seamstress  at  Work 68 

"  Moonshiner's  "  Cabin  on  the  Devil's  Nose 94 

Iron-workers , 119 

Coal-miners  Going  to  Work 129 

The  Signal-station  on  Pike's  Peak 137 

Loggers  in  Winter ,  .  149 

California  Girls  Peeling  Peaches ". 168 

Lottery  Shop , 175 

Alley  in  Chinatown 183 

Chinese  Merchants 187 

Railroad  on  a  Sugar  Plantation 245 

The  Water-flume 248 

Crater  of  Kilauea 261 

Hula-hula  Girls 275 

Hawaiian  Female  Costumes -. , .  281 


UITIVBXISITT 


THE  TRAMP  AT  HOME. 


CHAPTER  I. 
ADVENTURES   IN   NEW   YORK   AND   BROOKLYN. 

CONDITION  OP  WORKING -WOMEN. —  SUSPICIOUS  OF  GOVERNMENT 
AGENTS. — WHAT  IS  WOMAN'S  "SPHERE?" — THE  POOR  IN  BROOK 
LYN. — MISTAKEN  FOR  AN  INSURANCE  AGENT. — A  NIGHT  ON  THE 
BOWERY. — POLITICAL  ECONOMY  IN  A  BATH-TUB. 

UPON  completing*  my  report  on  the  condition  of  working- 
men  in  Europe,  I  was  deputed  by  the  Bureau  of  Labor  Statis 
tics  at  Washington  to  examine  into  the  condition  of  working- 
women  in  large  American  cities.  Brooklyn  was  the  first  city 
selected.  Before  beginning  the  investigation  I  delivered  to  the 
Knights  of  Labor  in  Brooklyn  several  letters  of  introduction 
that  had  been  given  me  by  members  of  the  order  in  Wash 
ington.  An  appointment  was  made  for  me  to  attend  an  open 
meeting  at  the  Knights  of  Labor  hall  on  Fulton  Street.  I  went, 
and  found  that  the  introductory  letters  had  been  unfavorably 
received.  My  arrival  was  the  signal  for  hoots  and  jeers. 

"  We  want  no  Government  spies !"  cried  one  man. 

"  You  can't  come  in  here  !"  cried  another. 

"They  sneaked  one  man  in  on  us  last  year;  it  can't  be  done 
again,  though  !"  shouted  a  third. 

"There  is  some  mistake,"  I  said,  as  soon  as  the  excitement 
abated  enough  to  let  me  be  heard.  "  I  supposed  your  order 
was  friendly  to  the  Labor  Bureau.  The  commissioner  did  not 
send  me  to  you.  He  knows  nothing  of  my  purpose  of  coming 
here — " 
I 


2  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

"  You  haven't  told  Carroll  Wright,  eh  ?"  interrupted  one  of 
the  men.  "  Well,  you  can  tell  that  to  the  marines.  We  have 
no  more  faith  in  Carroll  Wright  than  in  any  other  Massachu 
setts  man,  and  that  is  saying  we  have  mighty  little." 

I  endeavored  to  explain  that  all  I  wanted  were  suggestions 
as  to  where  I  had  better  begin  the  investigation — where  I  would 
find  most  working-girls.  The  Knights  would  not  listen. 

I  fear  labor  investigations  will  be  attended  with  more  seri 
ous  obstacles  in  the  United  States  than  in  Europe.  In  Europe 
the  men  always  seemed  willing,  even  anxious,  to  talk  with  me. 
They  freely  told  of  their  low  wages,  of  their  hard  struggle,  and 
in  return  listened  to  the  stories  I  related  of  America.  At  home 
I  have  often  found  it  difficult  to  win  their  confidence.  Ameri 
can  laborers  are  suspicious  of  anything  connected  with  the 
Government,  which  they  seem  to  believe  is  run  entirely  in  the 
interest  of  the  rich.  Once,  as  I  was  leaving  a  large  New  Eng 
land  cotton-mill,  whither  I  had  gone  to  secure  the  names  of 
some  of  the  operatives  with  the  purpose  of  interviewing  them 
at  their  homes,  an  old  woman  who  had  given  me  her  name  and 
residence  came  running  up. 

"If  you  please,  sir,  I  think  I  would  like  to  have  my  name 
back." 

I  was  a  Government  agent,  and  some  one  had  cautioned  her 
not  to  trust  a  Government  agent.  I  gravely  read  from  my 
note-book  the  name  and  address  she  had  given  me  ;  whereupon 
she  returned  to  her  loom  apparently  satisfied.  Afterwards, 
when  I  -called  upon  this  same  woman,  she  evinced  surprise  that 
I  remembered  her,  and  knew  where  to  find  her  house  after  I 
had  given  back  her  name !  She  seemed  to  think  it  vain  to  at 
tempt  to  further  evade  so  acute  an  investigator,  and  answered 
my  questions  quite  freely. 

The  possessor  of  moderate  intelligence  is  the  hardest  to  deal 
with.  A  workman  of  first-class  intelligence  understands  the 
value  of  statistics,  and  to  assist  in  throwing  light  on  the  "  labor 
question  "  will  submif  to  what  ordinarily  might  seem  an  im 
pertinent  examination  into  private  affairs.  On  the  other  hand, 


ADVENTURES  IX  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.      3 

laborers  of  very  limited  intelligence — men  and  women  who, 
through  drudgery,  have  become  mere  machines — will  answer 
questions  as  they  will  do  anything  else  they  are  bidden.  But 
from  that  portion  of  the  community  with  just  enough  sense 
and  schooling  not  to  be  automatic  machines,  yet  not  quite 
enough  to  comprehend  the  purpose  of  statistical  inquiries — 
from  this  class  it  is  difficult  to  extract  any  trustworthy  infor 
mation  whatever.  The  flippant  evasions,  the  would-be  witty 
replies  I  received  from  this  class  would  fill  a  volume. 

"What  is  it  all  for?"  one  will  ask.  I  explain.  "Well, 
what  does  the  Government  want  to  know  my  wages  for?  It 
ain't  the  Government's  business  if  my  work  ain't  healthy." 

"It  will  not  harm,  it  may  benefit,  you  to  tell  me  about  your 
work." 

"  I  believe  I  would  as  lief  not,"  they  reply,  glancing  at  me 
furtively,  as  if  taking  me  to  be  the  emissary  of  an  enemy. 

Experience  made  me  expert  in  distinguishing  this  class. 
Often  I  could  tell  at  a  glance  whether  a  man  or  woman  would 
be  willing  to  give  information.  I  left  with  some  of  the  work 
ing-girls  printed  forms  with  questions  as  to  the  effect  of  their 
work  on  the  health,  the  average  of  wages,  hours,  etc.  Here 
are  a  few  specimens  of  the  written  replies  made  by  shop-girls 
to  those  questions : 

"  Work  makes  me  feeble,  and  troubled  with  corns." 

"  Very  injurious  work.  Gives  me  toothache,  and  rheumatism  in  my  left 
ankle.  I  have  to  support  my  entire  family  consisting  of  twelve  persons, 
not  including  my  future  husband." 

"Weakly.  Diagnosis  of  my  case  most  miserable.  Very  weak  around 
the  ankles." 

"Don't  get  any  wages — live  on  love  and  fresh  air.  You  forgot  to  ask 
what  number  of  shoes  I  wear.  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  I  am  noted  for  my 
very  small  feet.  I  wear  my  father's  old  socks  and  my  mother's  shoes. 
It  is  below  my  dignity  to  wash  dishes.  I  mind  the  baby  instead,  who  is  a 
darling  boy  with  a  beautiful  mustache,  and  kisses  too  nicely  for  any 
thing." 

"If  you  want  any  information  about  me,  come  around  some  time  when 
I'm  out,  and  get  all  you  can.  It's  none  of  the  Government's  business  what 
wages  I  get." 


THE    TKAMP    AT   HOME. 

"  Sanitary  condition  very  bad,  a  young  man  being  across  the  way  result 
ing  in  my  having  palpitation  of  the  heart.  Make  the  Government  pass  a 
la\v  to  remove  that  young  man,  or  else  make  him  shave  off  his  mustache. 
Otherwise  I  shall  die  of  heart  disease." 

"  Can't  fool  me.  The  Government  ain't  going  to  help  us  working-girls. 
It  never  did." 

"  My  entire  family  belong  to  the  Salvation  Army.  Call  to  see  my  pa 
and  he  will  tell  you  the  rest,  and  set  the  bull-dog  on  you  besides." 

"Work  is  injurious  to  the  rotary  motions  of  my  interior  organs.  My 
left  eye  has  a  fixed  look,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  my  habit  of  squinting  at  the 
young  man  across  the  way.  Am  also  afflicted  with  bandy-leggedness  in 
pedal  extremities,  which  I  attribute  to  standing  on  one  foot.  Am  gradu 
ally  growing  one-sided.  To  keep  a  straight  appearance,  am  forced  to 
stand  on  an  oyster-can." 

"  If  you  want  any  information  call  some  time  when  I  am  not  in.  I  would 
be  delighted  to  improve  an  acquaintance  so  agreeably  begun ;  likewise  my 
pa,  whose  shot-gun  is  not  yet  out  of  order,  and  who  is  considered  the  best 
shot  for  miles  around." 

Such  instances  could  be  multiplied  indefinitely,  but  the  above 
suffice  to  illustrate  the  point.  Those  girls  doubtless  giggled 
and  were  highly  amused  at  the  wit  they  imagined  they  were 
displaying.  At  the  same  time,  if  there  really  was  anything  in 
jurious  in  their  work,  or  if  there  were  any  evils  capable  of  legis 
lative  remedy,  no  more  effectual  way  could  have  been  taken  to 
choke  off  inquiry  and  prevent  the  probable  benefits  that  might 
follow  an  accurate  and  complete  knowledge  of  their  condition. 
I  believe  I  had  less  difficulty  in  Europe,  because  there  I  adopt 
ed  the  dress  of  a  workman  and  lived  with  the  working-class. 
Doubtless,  had  I  gone  to  them  as  an  agent  of  the  Government, 
they  also  would  have  been  suspicious  and  churlish.  In  Italy, 
where  I  began  my  tramp  trip,  I  used  frequently  to  fall  in  with 
strolling  peddlers  and  mechanics.  In  answer  to  their  questions 
I  told  them  frankly  that  I  was  tramping  merely  to  see  the  peo 
ple.  An  itinerant  umbrella-vender,  whom  I  met  on  the  way 
from  Palermo  to  Rome,  required  to  be  told  several  times  before 
he  would  believe  that  I  was  doing  for  pleasure  the  very  thing 
he  considered  the  hardest  sort  of  work.  Said  he  : 

"Amico  mio — my  friend — you  are  not  crazy.    You  wish  not 


ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.      5 

the  people  to  think  you  crazy.  Well,  do  not  tell  that  you  walk 
from  Palermo  to  Rome  for  love  to  walk  and  see  people.  You 
have  a  pack  on  your  back ;  say  you  sell  umbrellas,  but  that 
they  are  all  gone.  Then  people  will  not  think  you  mad." 

It  may  be  that  truth  is  not,  like  honesty,  always  the  best 
policy.  Certainly  sometimes  in  Italy,  when  the  peasants 
crowded  too  close  to  stare  at  the  "mad  American  who  walked 
about  in  the  sun  for  nothiirg,"  it  would  have  been  more  agree 
able  to  have  sought  shelter  under  the  humble  but  honest  occu 
pation  of  an  itinerant  umbrella-vender. 

A  great  deal  is  said  about  woman's  sphere.  One  declares 
it  is  in  the  kitchen  ;  another,  that  it  is  in  the  nursery ;  another, 
in  the  parlor.  It  is  in  a  dozen  different  places,  according  to 
the  classifier's  taste  and  imagination.  Careful  investigation  in 
many  lands  has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  whatever  wom 
an's  sphere  should  be,  it  actually  is  about  the  same  as  man's ; 
and  that  is  in  the  very  front  rank  of  the  hard  battle  of  life. 
That  small  class  of  idle,  daintily  dressed  fine  ladies  to  whom 
men  pay  most  homage  only  furnishes  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule.  The  aristocratic  American  feels  disgraced  if  his 
sister  or  daughter  engages  in  manual  labor.  In  Europe  the 
upper  classes  look  down  on  men  as  well  as  women  who  work 
for  a  living.  The  Turkish  gentleman  owns  his  wives  as  he 
owns  his  dogs  or  horses,  and,  if  rich  enough,  keeps  them 
in  idle  luxury  These  idle  and  pampered  women,  however, 
are  few  in  number  in  comparison  with  the  women  workers  of 
the  world.  In  America,  in  Europe,  even  in  Turkey,  where  it 
is  pretended  women  are  so  highly  esteemed — where  it  is  sac 
rilege  for  men  to  even  look  at  their  faces — the  labor  investiga 
tor  will  find  that  the  great  majority  of  women  work  for  their 
daily  bread,  often  working  side  by  side  with  men.  More  than 
that,  he  will  see  woman,  gentle  woman,  whose  "sphere"  is  in 
the  home,  in  the  kitchen,  in  the  nursery,  doing  hard  and  coars 
ening  work,  while  her  lord  and  master  does  some  softer  service, 
or  perhaps  lounges  idle  by  her  side. 

I  can  never  forget  the  astonishment,  mingled  with  shame, 


6  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

which  I  felt  the  first  time  I  gazed  upon  a  woman  harnessed 
by  the  side  of  an  ox.  It  was  on  a  lonely  road  in  Switzerland, 
near  the  Italian  frontier.  Night  had  already  set  in,  and  the 
bonfires  lighted  by  woodsmen  hundreds  of  feet  above  my  head 
gave  scarcely  enough  light  to  pick  my  way  over  the  rough, 
rocky  road.  I  hurried  on  to  reach  the  next  village.  In  my 
hurry,  and  in  the  darkness,  I  almost  ran  into  a  huge  mass  of 
moving  hay.  A  woman  was  pulling  that  hay,  and  an  ox,  not 
a  man,  was  helping  her.  On  that  same  road  I  overtook  a  num 
ber  of  women  who  looked  like  walking  hay-stacks.  Strapped 
to  their  backs  were  funnel-like  contrivances,  into  which  hay 
was  stacked  to  a  height  of  five  or  six  feet.  The  husbands 
piled  the  hay  into  the  funnels;  the  wives  carried  it.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  such  shameful  sights  will  never  be  seen  on  American 
soil. 

I  secured  the  names  of  a  number  of  the  employes  of  a  large 
Brooklyn  rope  factory,  and  on  Sunday  one  of  my  assistants,  a 
lady,  went  to  interview  them. 

"  When  I  called  at  the  first  house,"  said  the  assistant,  "  the 
girl  seemed  surprised. 

"  *  Where  is  the  young  man  ?'  she  asked. 

"  She  was  dressed  in  all  her  finery,  as  if  expecting  a  beau 
instead  of  a  Government  agent.  At  another  place  the  girl's 
mother  opened  the  door. 

"  *  Pshaw  !'  she  exclaimed, '  isn't  he  coming  ?  I  stayed  on  pur 
pose  to  see  him.  I  was  going  to  a  funeral  to-day ;  but  when 
I  heard  the  Government  was  sending  young  men  around  to 
talk  with  my  girl  I  thought  I'd  better  stay  to  home  and  see 
what  was  up.' 

"  She  was  very  friendly,  however,  and  insisted  on  my  taking 
a  chair  and  writing  comfortably  at  the  table.  I  did  so.  Very 
good.  But  when  I  arose  to  go  it  was  very  bad.  The  chair 
arose  too.  It  had  been  freshly  varnished,  and  stuck  to  my 
dress.  The  good  woman  was  greatly  put  out.  She  scrubbed 
and  rubbed  my  dress,  pinned  up  the  rents,  and  insisted  on  my 
staying  to  dinner  by  way  of  making  amends  for  my  torn  dress. 


ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.      7 

I  remained,  and  had  a  working-family's  Sunday  dinner:  soup, 
ham,  potatoes,  coffee,  bread  and  butter,  and  pie. 

"  A  poor  rope  -  maker,  after  she  had  read  my  credentials 
stating  that  'any  assistance  rendered  would  be  valued  as  adding 
to  the  statistical  information  of  the  bureau,'  looked  a  little 
troubled. 

"4I  am  right  hard  up,' ( she  said,  hesitatingly,  'but  I  am 
willing  to  help  what  I  can.  Will  twenty-five  cents  do  any 
good  ?' " 

The  poor  woman  thought  the  great,  big,  rich  United  States 
Government  was  soliciting  financial  assistance.  It  was  perhaps 
comical,  but  also  a  little  pathetic,  her  willingness  to  drop  into 
its  overflowing  coffers  her  little  mite  of  twenty-five  cents. 
When  she  understood  that  information,  not  money,  was  solic 
ited,  she  cheerfully  answered  the  questions  necessary  to  fill  the 
blanks. 

An  old  woman  whom  I  met  on  the  streets  was  carrying  a 
mountain  of  cheap  "  pants  "  on  her  back.  I  spoke  to  her. 

"  Kann  kein  Englisch,"  said  the  old  woman. 

"Also,  wir  wollen  Deutsch  sprechen,"  I  answered,  address 
ing  her  in  German,  and  told  her  I  wanted  to  visit  her  and  in 
quire  about  her  work. 

'*  Wollen  mich  besuchen?" — (Want  to  come  to  see  me?) — her 
eyes  opening  wide  with  astonishment.  "  Was  soil  das  heissen  ?" 
— (What  does  that  mean  ?)  "  I  don't  know  you." 

"But  I  want  to  know  you.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  about 
your  work,  your  wages.  It  is  for  the  Government." 

"  For  the  Government !     WThere,  then,  is  your  uniform  ?" 

In  Germany  every  official,  however  lowly  and  humble,  wears 
a  uniform  decorated  with  brass  buttons.  The  old  German  lady 
refused  to  believe  I  was  a  Government  agent,  and  marched  off 
eying  me  suspiciously,  and  muttering,  "Der  naseweise  Junge, 
cine  alte  Frau  so  anzureden  !" — (The  impudent  rascal,  to  bother 
an  old  woman  like  me  !) 

However,  it  is  not  difficult  to  find  the  homes  of  the  "  pants  " 
makers.  Passing  along  the  streets,  one  knows  their  places  by 


8  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

the  clattering  of  the  sewing-machines.     Here  is  the  table  of  a 
Brooklyn  "pants"  and  coat  maker: 

Condition. — Family  of  seven  :  mother  and  six  daughters.  Occupy  four 
small  rooms  on  the  third  floor  of  a  tenement-house,  paying  $10  a  month 
rent.  Two  of  the  rooms  are  very  plainly  furnished,  the  other  two  are 
mere  closets.  The  mother  works  at  home  finishing  "pants,"  cooking, 
and  keeping  house.  Two  sisters  work  out,  the  others  go  to  the  public 
schools.  By  working  from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  half-past 
six  in  the  evening,  one  girl  has  made  as  much  as  $11.70  in  a  week. 
Ordinarily  she  earns  from  $6  to  $9  a  week.  The  higher  figure,  however, 
is  made  only  when  the  mother  helps. 

Diet. — Breakfast :  Tea  or  coffee  and  bread.  Dinner :  Bread  and  butter, 
fresh  meat  of  some  kind,  potatoes,  occasionally  pie  or  pudding.  Supper  : 
Same  as  breakfast. 

Amount  earned  by  the  two  girls  making  "  pants,"  per  week.  $16. 

Cost  of  living  for  family  of  seven,  per  week  : 

Rent $2  50 

Meats,  salt  and  fresh 3  00 

Potatoes 56 

Butter 30 

Flour  and  bread 1  30 

Tea  and  coffee 50 

Clothing 2  30 

Fuel  and  light 1  00 

All  other  expenses,  religion,  repairing  furniture,  etc 4  00 

Total  weekly  expenses $15  46 

Total  weekly  income 16  00 

Total  weekly  savings $       64 

This  would  make  the  savings  of  this  Brooklyn  family  amount 
to  $28.08  a  year — a  small  sum  with  which  to  meet  sickness  or 
other  misfortune. 

In  the  large  cities,  as  New  York,  Philadelphia,  St.  Louis,  etc., 
wages  appear  to  be  higher  than  in  small  towns,  though  not  suf 
ficiently  so  to  compensate  for  the  greatly  increased  cost  of  liv 
ing.  In  New  York  it  is  impossible  for  the  average  workman 
or  woman  to  live  in  anything  like  comfort.  Rents  are  high, 
provisions  are  high,  every  necessity  is  high.  Few  working-men 
get  off  with  less  than  ten  dollars  a  month  rent,  and  it  may 


ADVENTURES    IN    NEW   YORK    AND    BROOKLYN.  9 

safely  be  said  that  any  habitation  in  New  York  City  at  that 
figure  would  be  of  the  most  miserable  and  squalid  description. 
I  have  visited  many  tenement-houses,  and  found  not  a  few 
cases  where  the  children  of  a  family,  grown  sons  and  daugh 
ters,  occupied  the  same  sleeping  apartments.  Not  only  will 
such  crowding  create  physical  disease,  but  it  must  necessarily 
destroy  all  natural  delicacy  and  possibly  deprave  the  morals. 
Still,  there  is  nothing  as  bad  in  New  York  as  the  lodging- 
houses  I  have  seen  in  Italian  cities,  where  men  and  women, 
strangers  to  each  other,  often  bunk  together.  The  philanthro 
pist  who  studies  tenement  life  in  large  American  cities  will 
readily  perceive  the  evils  resulting  from  overcrowding,  and  seek 
some  remedy  therefor.  Take,  for  instance,  the  Tenth  Police 
Precinct  in  New  York.  In  that  precinct  a  large  proportion* 
of  the  population  dwell  in  a  poor  class  of  tenement-houses,  and 
New  York  statistics  of  crime  show  a  figure  ten  per  cent,  greater 
in  proportion  to  population  in  the  Tenth  than  in  any  other  pre 
cinct  where  the  number  of  tenement-houses  is  smaller.  This 
of  itself  might  not  mean  much ;  but  when  careful  inquiry  in 
several  large  cities  shows  that  there  is  uniformly  a  much  larger 
per  cent,  of  crime  in  districts  where  great  numbers  of  people 
crowd  in  tenement-houses  than  in  districts  not  so  crowded,  the 
fact,  to  say  the  least,  is  significant.  I  was  unable  to  get  the 
statistics  of  crime  in  European  cities  in  this  connection.  Had 
they  been  obtainable,  doubtless  the  same  story  would  have  been 
told.  The  poorer  class  of  tenement-houses  are  usually  filled 
by  the  lowest  classes  of  society.  It  may  be  said  that  these  low 
classes  furnish  a  fertile  soil  for  crimes  and  vices.  Overcrowd 
ing  in  dark  attics  and  damp  cellars  certainly  will  afford  these 

*  The  Registrar  of  the  New  York  Board  of  Health  writes,  March,  1888: 
"A  tenement-house,  as  legally  defined,  is  one  in  which  more  than  two 
families  live  independently ;  but  in  this  census  no  cognizance  has  been 
taken  of  what  are  called  '  apartment-houses '  or  '  flats,'  but  only  of  the 
poorer  class — the  houses  commonly  known  as  '  tenements ' — front  door 
never  closed.  Total  number  of  such  houses,  31,534;  total  number  of 
families,  250,105;  total  number  of  occupants,  1,016,135." 
1* 


10  THE    TEAMP   AT   HOME. 

unfortunates  no  chance  to  improve  their  condition  mentally, 
morally,  or  physically ;  on  the  contrary,  a  perpetuity  of  vice 
and  crime  is  assured.  One  hundred  years  ago  less  than  a  thir 
tieth  of  the  population  of  the  United  States  lived  in  cities  of 
eight  thousand  and  over.  The  census  of  1880  showed  that  the 
urban  population  constituted  22.5  per  cent,  (or  nearly  a  fourth) 
of  the  entire  population.  The  tendency  to  crowd  into  cities 
still  continues,  and,  if  not  checked,  will  result  in  producing  the 
same  squalid  poverty  that  may  be  said  to  be  the  rule  in  Europe, 
but  as  yet  is  only  "  sporadic  "  in  America. 

Considering  its  size  and  proximity  to  New  York,  rents  in 
Brooklyn  are  surprisingly  low — low  even  as  compared  with 
smaller  cities.  I  found  a  skirt  and  lace  embroiderer  on  Lexing 
ton  Avenue,  Brooklyn,  in  a  brown-stone-front  house  which  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  the  residence  of  a  well-to-do  merchant 
or  banker.  The  lace-embroiderer  paid  fifty  dollars  a  month  for 
this  three-story  stone-front  house.  She  sublet  the  first  floor  for 
twenty  dollars,  and  the  third  for  fourteen  dollars,  making  the 
rent  of  the  second  floor,  which  she  occupied  with  her  grand 
mother  and  cousin,  sixteen  dollars  a  month.  The  front  room, 
overlooking  the  elevated  railroad,  was  handsomely  furnished — 
pictures,  piano,  carpet,  etc.  The  cousin  paid  four  dollars  a  week 
on  this,  and  on  her  wages  of  ten  dollars  a  week  the  lace-em 
broiderer  supported  herself  and  grandmother  in  comfort. 

A  comfortable  two -story  frame  house  can  be  rented  in 
Brooklyn  for  $20  a  month.  I  called  on  the  family  of  a  car 
penter  living  in  such  a  house.  There  were  double  parlors,  a 
bath-room,  closets,  and  other  conveniences.  The  house  was 
nicely  furnished,  and  the  family  were  intelligent  and  well 
dressed.  The  father,  a  master  carpenter,  earns  $900  a  year. 
Two  daughters  in  a  straw-hat  factory  make,  the  one  $400, 
the  other  $312  a  year.  A  son  twenty -two  years  old  receives 
$21  a  week  as  clerk  in  a  wholesale  house  in  New  York. 
The  total  income  of  the  family  of  eight  is  $2854  a  year. 
Their  annual  expenses  fall  short  of  this  amount  by  about  $600, 
leaving  a  snug  sum  to  lay  aside  for  a  rainy  day. 


ADVENTURES   IN   NEW  YORK    AND   BROOKLYN.  11 

A  few  days  after  my  call  on  this  family  I  was  at  one  of  the 
New  Jersey  sea-shore  resorts.  To  my  surprise,  upon  entering 
the  parlors  of  the  hotel,  there  was  the  hat-maker,  daughter  of 
the  carpenter,  in  a  pretty  white  dress,  her  cheeks  round  and 
rosy. 

**  I  am  taking  my  vacation,"  she  explained.  "  I  have  some 
thing  to  ask  you,"  hesitating.  "You  will  not  tell  how  you 
came  to  know  me,  not  tell  that  I  am  a  factory  girl ;  they  do 
not  know  it  here.  They  think  perhaps  that  I  am  a  school 
teacher.  They  would  be  unpleasant  to  me  if  they  knew  I  was 
a  factory  girl." 

She  was  not  ashamed  of  her  work,  but  she  knew  the  snob 
bishness  of  the  world.  I  observed  her  with  considerable  in 
terest  during  my  stay.  Several  of  her  friends  came  up  from 
the  city.  One,  a  musician  of  no  mean  ability,  was  the  son  of 
a  judge;  another  was  a  book-keeper;  another  a  medical 
student.  The  hat-maker  sang  well.  Accompanied  by  the 
judge's  son,  she  treated  the  hotel  to  an  excellent  amateur  con 
cert. 

It  is  gratifying  to  be  able  to  note  such  cases  as  the  lace- 
embroiderer  and  the  carpenter's  family,  because  they  indicate 
the  possibilities  of  thrift  and  industry  in  this  country.  Such 
cases  can  scarcely  be  paralleled  in  Europe,  even  among  the 
exceptions.  The  reader,  however,  who  imagines  that  even  in 
America  any  large  number  of  working  men  or  women  live 
in  as  comfortable  a  style  as  the  two  families  just  described  will 
make  a  mistake.  As  far  as  I  have  observed,  they  are  the  pleas 
ant  exceptions  to  a  very  unpleasant  rule. 

From  the  cosey  home  of  the  carpenter  I  called  on  a  tobacco- 
stripper's  family.  Six  persons  inhabited  two  fifth-story  rooms. 
The  parents  both  worked  in  the  tobacco  factory,  earning  to 
gether  nine  dollars  a  week.  They  stand  at  long  tables,  side  by 
side  with  men  and  women  of  all  colors — white,  black,  and  yel 
low — stripping  the  leaf  tobacco  from  the  stems.  For  each 
pound  of  stems  the  stripper  is  paid  three  cents.  Two  dollars 
a  week  goes  for  rent ;  on  the  remaining  seven  dollars  the  fain- 


12  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

ily  of  six  clothe  and  feed  themselves.  Their  diet  consists  of 
little  else  than  bread,  coffee,  and  potatoes. 

Some  of  the  girls  whom  I  approached  affected  indifference, 
and  would  hardly  condescend  to  answer  my  questions.  I  called 
one  evening  on  a  twine-spinner,  daughter  of  an  Irish  laborer. 
The  old  father  was  present. 

"  What  is  it,  Mary  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  census-taker,"  replied  Mary. 

"  Humph  !"  said  the  old  man.  "  A  great  nuisance,  this  cen 
sus  business.  I  suppose,  though,  we  must  stand  it." 

Stretching  himself  out  in  his  chair,  he  assumed  an  important 
air,  and  continued : 

"  I  was  born  forty-nine  years  ago,  in — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  I  interrupted.  "  The  present  inves 
tigation  does  not  require  me  to  bother  you  with  questions.  It 
is  your  daughter  I  wish  to  interview." 

"What?  You  don't  want  my  name?  How  is  this?  Why 
do  you  take  Mary's  name  and  not  mine?  I'm  the  head  of  the 
family." 

When  he  understood  that  I  was  deputed  by  the  Government 
to  investigate  the  condition  and  wages  of  working-women,  he 
rather  resented  it  as  a  slight  put  on  masculine  dignity. 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  Miss  Aggie  Williams  lives?"  I 
asked  a  young  woman  leaning  on  a  gate  in  Franklin  Avenue. 

The  young  woman  gave  me  a  keen  glance. 

"Oh  yes;  she  lives  in  the  middle  of  the  next  block." 

A  little  farther  on  I  stopped  a  youngster  blowing  a  mouth- 
organ,  and  put  the  same  query. 

"  Miss  Williams  ?"  repeated  the  youngster.  "  Why,  you've 
passed  the  house.  See  that  lady  there  ?  That's  her." 

The  lady  indicated  was  the  very  one  who  had  directed  me 
to  the  middle  of  the  next  block.  She  was  still  leaning  on  the 
gate,  looking  daggers  at  the  little  boy.  When  I  started  back 
she  hurried  into  the  house  and  slammed  the  door.  A  special 
agent  cannot  afford  to  stand  on  trifles.  It  was  necessary  to 
investigate  the  condition  of  Miss  Aggie  Williams.  I  deter- 


BROOKLYN   TOBACCO- STRIPPERS. 


ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.     15 

mined  to  do  it,  and  pounded  on  the  door  until  it  seemed  about 
to  fall  in.  Finally  it  opened  six  inches,  and  an  elderly  woman 
cried  through  the  crack, 

"  Go  away  from  here !  Go  away  !  She  don't  want  to  be  in 
sured.  That's  all  there  is  about  it.  Go  away  !" 

"  Insured  ?     Who  wants  to  insure  you  ?" 

"Ain't  you  the  insurance, agent?" 

"Decidedly  not.  I  am  an  agent  of  the  United  States,"  and 
proceeded  to  explain  the  object  of  my  visit. 

"  Well,  I  do  declare  !  Not  an  insurance  agent,  after  all !  These 
insurance  fellows  have  been  bothering  Aggie  more'n  a  week 
to  get  herself  insured.  She  thought  you  was  one  of  'em.  You, 
Aggie" — raising  her  voice  and  calling  up  the  steps — "come 
down  here.  It  ain't  him  at  all.  It's  somebody  else.  Come 
right  down." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  young  lady  came  down  and  apologized 
for  slamming  the  door  in  my  face.  I  put  her  at  ease,  and  she 
told  me  of  the  hard  struggle  she  had  to  keep  body  and  soul  to 
gether.  She  was  a  vest  "finisher,"  and  made  on  an  average 
$3.90  a  week. 

"  It  is  not  as  bad  for  me  as  for  others,"  she  said,  cheerfully. 
"  True,  I  have  lost  my  parents,  but  I  live  with  a  widow  lady 
who  knew  my  mother.  She  helps  me  along  a  little,  and  does 
not  treat  me  as  she  would  a  strange  boarder.  There's  Fanny 
who  sits  next  to  me  in  the  factory.  She  rents  a  little  closet  of 
a  room  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  week,  and  lives  by  herself. 
She  buys  a  loaf  of  bread  and  makes  her  own  tea  in  the  morn 
ing — that's  her  breakfast.  At  twelve  o'clock  she  has  a  sand 
wich  of  bread  and  cheese,  and  when  she  can  afford  it,  a  piece 
of  pie.  At  night  she  gets  a  fifteen-cent  dinner  at  one  of  the 
cheap  eating-houses.  You  know  what  that  is  ?" 

Yes,  I  knew  what  that  was.  I  knew  that  cheap  eating-house 
dinners  and  dyspepsia  are  closely  related. 

"  It  is  hard  enough,"  said  Aggie,  "  when  a  girl  is  well  and 
able  to  work.  When  she's  sick  it's  worse ;  sometimes  as  bad  as 
can  be.  One  day  last  winter  Fanny  didn't  come  up  to  the  fac- 


16  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

tory.  I  went  around  Sunday  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Sho 
was  sick  in  bed,  and  looked  like  a  skeleton.  Nobody  had  been 
near  her.  You  see,  all  her  friends  are  working -girls,  and 
couldn't  stop  a  minute  in  the  day,  and  at  night  we  are  that 
tired  we  want  to  rest.  If  I  had  come  a  day  later  Fanny  would 
have  been  dead.  They  took  her  to  the  hospital,  and  she  wasn't 
able  to  work  for  six  weeks." 

"  Why  do  you  not  tell  your  employers  you  cannot  live  on 
$3.90  a  week?" 

The  girl  gave  me  a  strange  look. 

"Tell  them?  Well,  you  ought  to  be  a  working  -  girl,  and 
find  that  out  for  yourself." 

"As  I  cannot  be  a  working-girl  perhaps  you  will  tell  me?" 

"Molly  Smith  tried  that,  and — well,  she  goes  on  the  Bowery 
now.  That's  what  comes  of  following  our  employer's  advice." 

"What  was  that  advice?" 

"Well,  we  all  know  they  get  twelve  cents  for  what  they 
pay  us  six  cents.  Molly  Smith  went  and  told  our  boss  she 
couldn't  live  on  her  wages,  she  was  all  the  time  hungry,  and  in 
the  winter  all  the  time  cold.  He  said  to  Molly,  'You  are  a 
pretty  girl ;  why  don't  you  get  a  young  gentleman  friend  to 
help  you  ?'  That  made  Molly  mad.  She  flew  up  and  talked 
back,  and  got  turned  off.  It  was  dead  of  winter.  She  was 
took  sick  because  she  had  no  fire,  and — well,  I  don't  know  just 
how  it  happened.  All  I  know  is,  most  any  night,  they  say,  you 
can  see  Molly  on  the  Bowery.  She  never  comes  nigh  us  any 
more." 

This  case  was  not  an  isolated  one.  In  Philadelphia  I  sent 
my  lady  assistant  to  the  dry-goods  stores  and  other  places  em 
ploying  women,  and  instructed  her  to  ask  for  work. 

"  In  some  places,"  said  this  agent  in  her  report,  "  the  mana 
gers  bluntly  said,  'You  are  not  good-looking  enough.'  At 
other  places  where  the  need  of  new  hands  was  more  pressing, 
I  was  offered  three  dollars  a  week.  'But  I  cannot  live  on 
three  dollars.  My  car-fare  will  be  sixty  cents.  I  live  four 
miles  from  your  factory.'  The  answer  to  this  objection  was 


ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.     17 

too  often,  'We  can't  help  that.  You  must  get  a  friend  to 
help  you.'  " 

Under  such  circumstances,  it  is  not  surprising  to  learn  by 
actual  inquiry  that  a  large  per  cent,  of  the  fallen  women  in 
large  American  cities  are  graduated  from  the  shop-girl  class. 
The  shameful  responsibility  rests  on  the  shoulders  of  employers 
who,  as  was  demonstrated  in  Philadelphia,  actually  tell  young 
girls  applying  for  work  that  they  must  not  expect  to  receive 
li\ting  wages,  but  must  get  a  "friend"  to  furnish  them  with 
the  necessities  of  life — in  other  words,  must  sell  themselves  in 
order  to  live.  We  should  cease  to  boast  of  our  civilization 
while  such  things  are ;  should  stop  sending  missionaries  to 
Christianize  heathens  while  our  own  Christian  girls  are  daily 
drawn  to  destruction.  That  a  still  larger  number  of  poor 
working-girls  do  not  yield  to  the  tempter  and  succumb  to  the 
severity  of  the  situation,  speaks  well  for  the  natural  inclination 
of  women  to  lead  lives  of  honesty  and  purity. 

A  few  nights  after  my  visit  to  Aggie  Williams  I  went  to  a 
low  dancing-den  on  a  little  street  running  into  the  Bowery. 
The  coarsest  and  most  degraded  women,  the  most  brutal  men 
are  to  be  found  in  these  dens  off  the  Bowery.  The  women  I 
saw  were  all  young.  The  oldest  did  not  appear  more  than 
twenty-five,  the  youngest  seemed  scarcely  sixteen.  A  physician 
told  me  that  these  poor  creatures  almost  always  die  young  in 
years,  though  old  in  vice  and  the  suffering  which  vice  brings. 
On  the  walls  were  legends  in  big  letters : 

NOTICE. 

"  No  excuse  if  caught  with  another  man's  hat." 

"  Gospel  meetings  in  this  place  on  Sundays,  for  women  only." 

Written  under  this  last  sign  were  the  words,  "  For  fools  and 
women.  Who  wants  your  d d  old  meeting  ?" 

Hopeless  as  it  may  seem  to  hold  Christian  meetings  in  such 
foul  places,  the  effort  to  do  so  is  in  the  right  direction. 

These  wretched  girls  skipped  about  and  chasseed  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  now  and  then  varying  the  performance  by  kick- 


18  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

ing  their  partner's  or  some  by-stander's  hat  off,  and  screaming 
with  hysterical  laughter  as  the  men  scurried  over  the  floor  to 
pick  up  their  property.  The  highest  kicker  seemed  to  be  the 
greatest  favorite. 

While  sitting  in  the  gallery  looking  at  the  raad  scene,  won 
dering  if  among  any  of  those  reckless  women  was  the  once 
modest  and  honest  working-girl  friend  of  the  vest-finisher,  a 
young  woman  came  and  seated  herself  opposite  me.  In  the 
most  free  and  easy  way  she  opened  up  a  conversation. 

"  Hello,  Billy  !  Treat.  I  want  a  warmer ;"  and  without  wait 
ing  my  assent  or  dissent,  she  beckoned  to  a  waiter  and  ordered 
a  whiskey  straight. 

"  What'll  you  take?"  she  asked  me. 

"A  glass  of  lemonade,  if  you  please." 

"  Oh,  you  are  one  of  those  preacher  fellows  what  come  to 
see  us,  and  then  shows  us  up  on  Sundays.  All  right,  then. 
Just  one  whiskey  straight,  Johnny,  and  hurry  up,  will  you." 

The  whiskey  was  brought  and  drunk,  and  my  self-invited 
companion  grew  more  sociable  and  confiding. 

"Don't  you  know,"  she  said,  "I  rather  like  you  preachers; 
makes  me  think  when  I  was  kinder  good  myself,  and  went  to 
Sunday-school  and  all  that." 

"  I  am  not  a  preacher." 

"  What  then  ?  Newspaper  fellow  ?  Nobody  else  ever  comes 
to  look  at  us  but  the  preacher  and  newspaper  chaps.  Want  to 
write  us  up  ?  Well,  give  us  a  good  send-off." 

"Do  you  like  this  rapid  sort  of  life?"  I  asked,  looking  at 
the  dancers,  who  grew  more  and  more  uproarious. 

"  Well,  it's  about  the  best  I  can  do  now.  It's  harder  on 
them  that  can't  get  here.  There's  Moll  Smith  got  turned  off 
Thursday  for  cussing  a  fellow  too  much,  and  now  she's  a-walk- 
ing  the  street.  She  would  give  her  eye-teeth  to  get  back  again." 

At  this  moment  who  should  loom  up  but  Moll  herself,  ac 
companied  by  a  "  friend."  My  acquaintance  greeted  her  joy 
ously. 

"  How  did  you  make  it,  Moll  ?" 


ADVENTURES  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  BROOKLYN.     19 

"  He  fixed  it,"  with  a  jerk  of  her  thumb  towards  her  com 
panion.  "  Gus  made  it  all  right.  Sit  down,  Gas,  and  treat." 

Gus  seated  himself,  and  called  for  three  whiskeys  and  gin. 

"  We've  just  come  over  from  Brooklyn,"  said  the  woman, 
"and  a  jolly  time  we  had  too.  Gus  licked  one  of  his  best 
friends  in  Tony's  bar-room — gave  him  a  black  eye  he'll  carry 
for  a  month.  Coming  over  the  bridge  we  got  into  another 
row,  and  Gus  licked  another  friend  of  his." 

Gus,  highly  pleased  at  this  account  of  his  valor,  frowned  sur 
lily,  and  drank  his  whiskey  with  a  gloomy  face. 

I  looked  at  Gus's  burly  form  and  big  fists,  and  decided  I  did 
not  care  to  possess  his  friendship.  I  thought  something  of 
asking  his  companion  if  she  was  the  Molly  Smith  who  had 
been  the  little  vest-finisher's  friend,  but,  on  second  thought,  de 
cided  not  to  do  so. 

After  disposing  of  their  drinks,  Gus  and  Molly  and  the 
w/oman  who  had  first  spoken  to  me  repaired  to  the  floor  be 
low.  The  last  I  saw  of  them  they  were  in  the  thick  of  the 
crowd,  the  two  girls  kicking  their  heels  high  in  the  air,  and 
the  redoubtable  Gus  rolling  up  his  trousers  to  take  part  in  the 
nimble  can-can.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  man 
in  blue  uniform  and  brass  buttons,  whom  I  at  first  thought  was 
a  policeman,  elbowed  his  way  through  the  dancers  and  drink 
ers,  with  a  pile  of  Police  Gazettes  on  his  arm.  He  was  a  spe 
cial  agent  of  that  journal,  selling  copies  of  the  last  number  as 
they  came  hot  from  the  press. 

Painful  as  is  the  picture  here  drawn  of  the  degradation  of 
women,  it  is  well  the  world  should  see  it,  to  fully  understand 
the  consequence  of  that  advice  to  working-girls  to  "take  a 
friend."  I  left  that  Hester  Street  dance-house  feeling  some 
thing  as  Macbeth  did  when  he  thought  it  would  take  an  ocean 
to  make  him  clean.  As  the  ocean  was  not  convenient,  I  went 
to  a  Turkish -bath  establishment,  where,  after  melting  off  a 
pound  or  two  of  flesh  in  a  sweat-box,  I  witnessed  a  comical 
scene.  A  German  and  a  bald-headed  man,  who  were  taking 
sitz-baths,  began  a  discussion  of  the  tariff.  It  was  funny  to 


20  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

hear  political  economy  discussed  by  men  wrapped  in  sheets 
and  sitting  in  tubs  of  water.  The  bald-headed  man  kept  nerv 
ously  twitching  about. 

"You  want  to  ruin  American  industry,  that's  what  you  want. 
You  want  our  country  to  be  dependent." 

"Dummes  zeug!  verrueckt !"  grunted  the  German.  "Vat 
you  dink  somebody  makes  you  buy  all  your  fleisch  from  my 
store,  ven  you  get  dot  same  fleisch  next  door  half  so  echeap  ? 
Hey,  vat  you  say  ?  Don't  you  vant  dot  fleisch  from  dot 
bootscher  vat  sells  scheapest  ?" 

"  I  tell  you,"  the  bald-headed  man  exclaimed,  excitedly,  "  it 
is  better  to  pay  twice  as  much,  and  patronize  your  own  institu 
tions.  It  is  more  patriotic." 

"  Ya,  dot  is  so — more  patriotic  for  dot  man  you  buys  from  ; 
but  vat  you  say  'bout  dot  man  vat  buys — hey  ?  I  vill  get  my 
dings  where  I  gets  'em  scheapest — dot's  my  patriotism." 

"  You  don't  know  what  patriotism  is !"  shrieked  the  shiny- 
pated  man,  jumping  out  of  his  tub  and  dragging  the  tail-end  of 
his  sheet  in  the  water.  "  You  want  to  throw  American  work 
ing-men  out  of  employment.  You  look  here,  and  I  will  show 
you  the  whole  thing.  There  are  four  million  five  hundred 
thousand — " 

But  I  staved  to  hear  no  more. 


FACTORY   LIFE. 


CHAPTER  IL 
FACTORY    LIFE. 

THREAD  A  THOUSAND  MILES  LONG. — HOW  LACE  IS  MADE. — GIRLS 
AT  A  COOKING-SCHOOL. — ONE  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY  GIRL-PRIS 
ONERS  IN  THE  BROOKLYN  PENITENTIARY. — A  BROOKLYN  TAPES 
TRY-WEAVER. — WHY  A  BAGGING  MANUFACTURER  WANTS  PRO 
TECTION. 

THE  labor  investigator,  in  searching  for  information,  has 
difficulty  with  employer  as  well  as  with  employe. 

"See  here,"  said  the  proprietor  of  a  Brooklyn  hide-cleaning 
establishment;  "what's  this  mean?  Going  to  boycott  us,  eh? 
You  can't  come  around  here  talking  that  way !" 

"  First  I've  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Who  has  been  talking  of 
boycotts  ?" 

"  Why,  your  agents  have  been  around  to  see  some  of  my 
girls.  They  said  the  Government  is  going  to  boycott  us  for 
not  paying  wages  on  the  Fourth  of  July  and  on  Christmas." 

This  boycott  idea  came  from  the  fact  that  my  assistants  had 
expressed  surprise  when  the  girls  said  they  were  docked  for 
time  lost  on  the  Fourth  of  July  and  on  Christmas.  Said  one 
of  the  girls, 

"  Of  course  I  told  the  superintendent  the  Government  was 
going  to  put  the  boycott  on  him.  Isn't  that  why  they  ask  us 
so  many  questions  about  our  wages,  and  whether  we  are  paid, 
vacations  or  not  ?" 

In  the  Jennings  Lace-works  I  saw  thread  so  fine,  850,000 
yards  weighs  only  one  pound.  A  ball  of  this  thread  long 
enough  to  reach  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia  and  back 
could  be  carried  in  a  man's  pocket.  Upwards  of  nine  thou 
sand  different  sorts  of  thread  are  used  in  the  manufacture  of  a 
single  pattern.  Weeks  of  patient  work  are  required  to  adjust 


22  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

these  thousands  of  threads.  The  expert  workman  who  arranges 
the  new  pattern  keeps  a  sharp  eye  on  the  maze  of  silk  before 
him.  If  a  single  thread  out  of  that  wilderness  becomes  tangled 
or  out  of  place,  it  must  be  seen  and  remedied.  The  workman 
who  does  this  adjusting  gets  twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  The 
designer  of  the  pattern  generally  stands  by  the  machine  until 
it  is  made  perfect.  Of  new  designs  in  lace  seldom  more  than 
a  thousand  yards  are  made  at  first;  for  it  often  happens  that 
even  a  very  pretty  pattern  fails  to  strike  the  popular  fancy,  and 
so  the  entire  lot  is  returned  to  the  factory.  Said  the  manager 
of  the  Jennings  Lace-works : 

"  What  may  seem  commonplace  to  our  artist  may  meet 
great  favor  with  the  public.  On  the  other  hand,  the  artist's 
pet  design  may,  every  yard,  be  returned  to  us.  We  calculate 
that  the  public  taste  changes  completely  in  seven  years.  Those 
twenty -four  machines  there  in  the  next  building  have  been  idle 
four  years.  It  is  too  expensive  to  remove  them,  or  to  change 
the  patterns  to  which  they  are  adjusted.  Come  back  in  three 
years,  though,  and  I  dare  say  you  will  see  those  machines  busy 
again,  while  the  machines  now  at  work  will  by  that  time  be 
old-fashioned  and  idle." 

WThen  the  lace  leaves  the  machines  it  is  finished  just  as 
the  purchaser  sees  it,  with  this  exception :  the  threads  are 
not  cut. 

A  rose  or  a  lily  is  made ;  next  comes  a  bird  or  a  vase.  The 
fine  silk  or  linen  thread,  a  million  yards  long,  is  not  broken ;  it 
is  carried  over  the  space  intervening  between  the  flower  and 
the  vase,  and  there  taken  up  by  the  innumerable  needles  and 
formed  into  the  next  design.  The  loose  threads  over  these  in 
tervening  spaces  must  be  cut  away.  The  girls  who  do  this  are 
called  "  clippers."  They  are  paid  so  much  per  hundred  clips. 
In  very  fine  lace,  where  the  designs  are  small  and  the  threads 
numerous,  as  high  as  a  dollar  is  paid  for  clipping  the  loose 
threads  on  one  yard.  In  less  costly  designs  the  figures  are 
large  and  coarse,  the  number  of  loose  threads  are  fewer,  and 
it  sometimes  costs  only  three  cents  to  clip  a  yard. 


FACTORY    LIFE.  2o 

To  a  casual  observer  the  business  of  clipping  seems  wonder 
ful.  I  saw  a  deft  girl  run  her  scissors  down  a  strip  of  lace 
six  inches  wide,  shaving  it  clean  of  every  loose  thread,  and  not 
injuring  the  lace  itself;  all  the  time  she  was  talking  away  to  me, 
apparently  paying  no  attention  to  the  fine  lace  or  the  sharp 
scissors  that,  by  a  slight  mishit/ would  have  lost  her  a  week's 
wages.  The  girl  said  she  wa£  only  sixteen,  and  not  married, 
"Though,"  she  added,  "  it  won't  be  long  before  I  shall  be.  I 
don't  intend  to  work  all  my  life." 

"  Suppose  you  marry  a  worthless  man  ?  Then  you  will 
have  to  support  him  and  yourself  too." 

"  Humph  !"  was  the  young  lace-clipper's  reply,  "  you'll  never 
catch  me  supporting  a  husband.  When  I  marry  he  will  have 
to  take  care  of  me." 

She  was  quite  serious  in  her  purpose  to  marry  early,  and 
was  preparing  herself  for  the  event  in  what  I  thought  a  very 
practical  way.  She  was  member  of  a  woman's  club,  the  object 
of  which  was  to  learn  dress-making,  cooking,  carving,  and  other 
household  arts.  I  attended  one  of  the  classes,  and  saw  the 
young  misses  deeply  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  juicy 
beefsteaks  and  roasts.  On  a  table  was  a  chart  with  diagrams 
of  beef,  a  turkey,  and  a  chicken.  Porter-house  and  tenderloin 
steaks,  the  spareribs,  the  sirloin  steaks,  and  other  choice  portions 
of  a  beef  were  all  clearly  defined.  With  a  knowledge  of  how  to 
select  as  well  as  to  prepare  good  food,  the  young  housewife  is 
certainly  on  the  high-road  to  the  favor  of  her  dear  lord.  To  cook 
well  is  an  accomplishment  far  too  rare  in  America.  Having 
lived  to  a  great  extent  in  hotels  and  restaurants,  and  having  ob 
served  the  diet  of  families  in  every  State  in  the  Union,  I  am 
able  to  speak  knowingly  on  this  subject,  and  to  speak  feelingly. 
In  the  New  England  and  in  the  Eastern  States  plain  cooking  is 
often  pretty  well  understood ;  but  in  the  W'est  and  South-west 
good  bread  or  well-cooked  food  of  any  kind  among  laboring 
people  is  so  seldom  found  that  he  who  is  unfortunate  enough  to 
have  to  travel  there  must  make  up  his  mind  to  get  dyspepsia. 

The  little  lace-clipper  was  very  sensible  to  learn  cooking  be- 
2 


26  THE    TfcAMP    AT    HOME. 

fore  marrying.     She  had  paid  a  dollar  for  the  course  of  twelve 
lessons,  and  could  already  cook  a  steak  to  a  turn. 

"And  next  week,"  she  said,  proudly,  "  I  am  to  take  up  roasts 
and  carving." 

Although  she  looks  upon  marriage  rather  prosaically  as  a 
means  of  stepping  out  of  the  factory,  I  predict  that  her  future 
spouse  will  be  able  to  content  himself  with  the  substantial,  if 
not  romantic,  blessings  with  which  she  is  preparing  to  provide 
him.  The  condition  of  her  family  is  thus  shown  by  my  note 
book : 

Table  of  Brooklyn  Lace-dipper }s  Family. 

Condition, — Six  in  family :  parents,  two  small  children,  and  two  grown 
daughters.  The  father  is  a  printer,  earning  eighteen  dollars  a  week  when 
•work  is  steady ;  owing  to  strikes,  union  assessments,  and  dull  times,  has 
for  some  months  averaged  only  eight  dollars  a  week.  One  daughter  is 
an  invalid,  the  other  clips  lace ;  family  live  in  four  rooms  on  second  floor 
of  tenement-house ;  front  room  is  used  as  bedroom,  parlor,  and  dining- 
room  ;  place  poorly  furnished ;  a  few  cheap  chromos  on  the  walls ;  bare 
rough  floors  ;  ventilation  bad. 

Diet. — Breakfast :  Bread  and  butter,  pork  or  ham,  tea.  Dinner :  Fresh 
meat,  potatoes,  sometimes  cabbage,  pie.  Supper :  Same  as  breakfast,  with 
occasionally  part  of  dinner  left  over. 

Cost  of  Living  : 

Bread,  and  flour  for  pies,  per  day 2"5  cents. 

Meats,  salt  and  fresh,  "        . . .' 20     " 

Coffee,  "        10     " 

Sugar,  " 05      " 

Potatoes,  "         10     " 

Food  of  all  other  kinds,        "        30     " 

Total  daily  cost  of  food  for  six  persons,  $1  00 ;  per  year,  $365  00 

Rent,  per  month,  $8  00 96  00 

Clothing 76  00 

Doctor's  bills 36  00 

Incidentals,  including  fuel,  lights,  religion,  etc 42  00 

Total  annual  expenses  of  family  of  six $615  00 

Earnings  of  father  per  week  $8  00  ;  per  year,  $400  00 

"          lace-clipper,  per  week ...    3  50  ;         "  175  00 

"          mother  by  odd  jobs,  "  60  00 

Total  yearly  earnings 77. $635  00 

Balance  left,  $20. 


LIFE.  27 

The  majority  of  people  who  go  to  the  penitentiary  think 
they  get  there  quite  fast  enough.  It  was  otherwise  with  me 
when  I  started  on  a  Nostrand  Avenue  car  for  the  Brooklyn 
Penitentiary.  A  stingy  man  spreads  a  little  bit  of  butter  over 
a  big  bit  of  bread ;  in  the  same  way  the  houses  are  spread 
thinly  over  the  long  blocks  in  the  suburbs  of  Brooklyn.  A 
full  hour  elapsed  before  the  car  stopped  and  let  me  out  at  the 
warden's  gate.  The  gate-keeper  at  first  refused  to  admit  me 
without  a  permit;  but  upon  showing  my  credentials  and  ex 
plaining  the  official  nature  of  my  call,  he  swung  open  the  heavy 
iron  gates  and  let  me  in.  Passing  through  a  long  corridor  and 
through  a  large  court-yard  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile  across,  I 
entered  the  wing  where  are  employed  one  hundred  and  eighty 
women  at  shoemaking.  The  "Bay  State  Shoe  and  Leather 
Company  "  leases  the  convict  labor,  and  employs  the  one  hun 
dred  and  eighty  women  from  without  the  walls.  Except  for 
the  stigma  that  attaches  to  the  word  "convict,"  it  might  be 
said  that  the  prisoners'  condition  is  better  than  that  of  the  paid 
girls.  The  girls  are  almost  as  much  deprived  of  their  liberty 
as  the  convicts.  They  come  to  the  prison  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  are  not  allowed  to  leave  until  work  is  over  in  the  even 
ing.  The  convict,  when  he  finishes  his  day's  labor,  is  furnished 
by  the  State  with  plain  but  abundant  and  wholesome  food  and 
lodging.  The  so-called  free  girls  get,  on  an  average,  a  dollar  a 
day.  Then  they  trudge,  often  through  rain  and  snow,  to  small, 
crowded  tenement-houses,  and  work  at  night  sewing  either  on 
their  own  garments  or  doing  other  people's  sewing,  to  pay 
rent,  buy  food,  clothing,  medicines,  etc.,  which  they  cannot 
purchase  with  the  wages  received  from  the  shoe  factory  alone. 

The  girls  in  this  penitentiary  are  better  off  than  the  average ; 
first,  because  they  are  paid  a  slight  advance  over  the  market 
rate  of  wages  (otherwise  the  lessees  of  the  prison  would  be 
unable  to  get  them) ;  and  secondly,  because  the  work  is  steady. 
There  are  no  strikes,  no  two  or  three  months'  stoppages  on 
account  of  dull  seasons.  Notwithstanding  these  advantages 
which  they  have  over  the  average  working-girl,  many  of  the 


28  THE    T&AMP   AT    HOME. 

one  hundred  and  eighty  girls  who  every  morning  voluntarily 
enter  the  Brooklyn  Penitentiary  to  make  shoes  enjoy  fewer 
comforts  than  the  criminals  who  go  there  involuntarily. 

The  girls  are  not  thrown  in  contact  with  the  convicts.  They 
work  in  a  large  hall  in  the  top  of  the  building,  with  numerous 
windows  and  an  abundance  of  fresh  air.  Five  tables,  each  one 
hundred  and  forty  feet  long,  run  the  entire  length  of  the  room. 
On  each  side  of  these  tables  the  women  sit  bending  over  and 
manipulating  the  various  parts  of  a  shoe.  The  clatter  is  deaf 
ening.  An  eager,  strained  look  is  on  the  girls'  faces.  Here  a 
young  miss  seventeen  years  old  is  putting  buttons  by  the  hands- 
ful  into  a  sort  of  hopper.  The  buttons  come  out  of  the  other 
end  of  the  hopper  sewed  on  the  shoe.  Another  girl  is  making 
button-holes.  The  machine  goes  tearing  away,  turns  at  the 
right  place,  and  almost  before  you^  know  it  the  button-hole  is 
cut  and  finished  as  one  sees  it  in  the  finished  shoe.  Most  of 
the  women  are  members  of  a  society,  to  which  they  pay  ten 
cents  a  week.  In  case  of  illness,  members  receive  a  benefit  of 
twenty  dollars  a  month.  Some  had  been  paying  dues  for  years, 
and  said  they  almost  felt  as  if  they  were  being  cheated  in  not 
getting  sick  and  receiving  a  return  for  their  long  subscrip 
tion. 

The  five  hundred  convicts  and  one  hundred  and  eighty 
women  make  three  thousand  four  hundred  pair  of  shoes  a  day. 
The  division  of  labor  is  reduced  to  the  finest  point.  This 
convict  here,  a  gray-haired  old  man,  with  a  sad  face  and  hope 
less  expression,  stands  ten  hours  a  day  by  a  machine  feeding 
the  knife  with  leather.  The  knife  is  made  in  the  shape  of  the 
sole  of  a  shoe.  The'  hopeless-looking  convict  puts  the  leather 
under  the  knife,  touches  a  lever,  and  a  shoe-sole  drops  into  a 
basket.  This  operation  lie  repeats  without  variation  hundreds 
of  times  in  succession.  At  the  next  machine  stands  a  prisoner 
whose  only  business  is  to  place  the  leather  sole  on  a  mould ; 
the  machine  presses  the  sole  in  shape.  The  convict  puts  an 
other  sole  in,  that  is  pressed,  and  so  on  through  ten  long  hours. 
There  is  no  exertion,  no  strain,  but  the  monotony  is  terrible. 


HOMES    OF   THE    POOR. 


FACTORY    LIFE.  31 

Formerly  a  shoemaker's  brain  was  called  at  least  to  a  slight 
extent  into  play,  but  now  little  more  intellect  is  required  by 
the  man  who  attends  to  the  different  parts  of  shoemaking 
than  is  required  by  a  wooden  automaton.  Brain  power  seems 
to  have  been  transferred  to  the  machines.  The  sewing  appa 
ratus  sews  shoes  together  almost  like  a  thing  of  life.  All  the 
convict  has  to  do  is  to  set  the  leather  in  the  right  place ;  the 
thread  is  on  a  large  spindle',  a  small  lighted  lamp  revolves 
with  the  thread  to  keep  it  warm,  a  revolution  is  made  every 
minute  or  less,  and  at  each  revolution  a  sole  is  sewed  on  a 
shoe-top.  A  dial  registers  the  number  of  stitches  to  the  sole. 
Before  the  patent  expired,  the  inventor  of  this  machine  received 
two  cents  on  every  shoe.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  drop  around 
occasionally,  look  at  the  register  to  see  how  many  stitches  had 
been  recorded,  and  collect  his  royalty.  The  inventor  had  put 
in  the  brains,  and  so  got  the  money.  The  operators,  who  watch 
the  machines  do  the  work,  put  little  or  no  brains  in  the  opera 
tion,  and  so  do  not  receive  much  money.  They  are  glad  to 
make  two  dollars  a  day. 

There  is  a  keeper  to  every  forty  workmen  in  the  Brooklyn 
Penitentiary.  This  keeper  sits  on  a  raised  platform,  whence 
he  can  see  every  man  of  his  gang.  The  convict  who  violates 
any  of  the  rules  which  forbid  talking,  or  lagging  at  work,  is 
sharply  reprimanded,  and  is  punished  if  the  offence  is  repeated. 
Above,  in  the  hall  where  the  free  girls  work,  the  rules  are 
equally  strict.  A  girl  who  talks  is  reprimanded  by  the  fore 
man.  If  she  speaks  to  her  neighbor  at  the  work-bench  she  is 
punished  by  being  discharged  or  fined.  At  twelve  o'clock  the 
girls  eat  the  cold  luncheon  they  bring  from  home.  At  the  same 
hour  the  convicts  form  long  lines  and  march  in  close  lock-step 
across  the  wide  court.  As  they  pass  the  window  of  the  great 
kitchen,  each  man,  without  stopping,  is  handed  a  bucket  con 
taining  his  dinner.  He  is  locked  up  alone  in  his  cell  thirty 
minutes.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  lock-step  is  reformed, 
the  prisoners  file  back  to  the  shops  and  begin  work  again.  It 
was  a  pitiable  sight  on  either  hand — the  convicts,  with  their 


32  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

sad  faces  and  shameful  stripes,  the  girls,  in  their  shabby  cloth 
ing,  looking  care-worn,  overworked,  and  underfed. 

Notwithstanding  the  low  wages  and  high  cost  of  living  of 
the  vast  majority  of  American  working  men  and  women,  the 
claim  is  still  made  that  protective  tariffs  bring  to  the  laborer 
wealth  and  good  wages.  I  asked  F.  Coit  Johnson,  head  of  a 
weaving  and  bagging  mill  in  Brooklyn,  if  he  favored  protec 
tion. 

"  Every  and  all  the  time,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

During  the  course  of  the  conversation  he  informed  me  that 
his  factory  was  selling  goods  in  England. 

"  How  do  you  manage  to  compete  with  pauper  labor  ?" 

"Oh,"  replied  Mr.  F.  Coit  Johnson,  "it  is  very  simple.  We 
sell  goods  twelve  per  cent,  cheaper  in  London  than  in  Brook- 
!,„.» 

"Is  there  a  profit  when  you  sell  at  that  reduced  rate." 

"  Of  course  there  is." 

"Why,  then,  is  a  tariff  necessary  to  make  your  business 
pay?" 

"  In  this  business,"  replied  Mr.  F.  Coit  Johnson,  "  it  is  not 
to  make  a  profit,  but  make  all  you  can.  The  tariff  enables  us 
to  charge  more,  and  we  do  it.  We  would  be  fools  not  to 
charge  all  we  can  get." 

Mr.  F.  Coit  Johnson  may  be  right ;  it  may  be  unwise  not  to 
charge  all  he  can  get  for  his  goods,  but  the  American  people 
are  unwise  to  give  more  than  they  are  obliged  to  give,  are  un 
wise  to  permit  a  system  that  enables  men  like  Mr.  F.  Coit 
Johnson  to  a  get  all  they  can,"  to  sell  goods  cheaper  to  stran 
gers  three  thousand  miles  away  in  England  than  to  next  door 
neighbors  in  Brooklyn. 

Mr.  Johnson's  weavers,  who  average  six  dollars  a  week,  mind 
three  looms  each,  each  loom  turning  out  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
yards  of  bagging  per  day,  according  to  the  quality.  An  Italian 
weaver  earning  thirty  cents  a  day  makes,  with  his  old-fashioned 
machine,  ten,  or,  at  most,  fifteen  yards.  Summary  :  In  Italy  a 
thirty-cent  weaver  produces  ten  yards  of  cloth.  In  Brooklyn 


FACTORY   LIFE.  33 

a  dollar  weaver  produces  sixty  yards.  It  does  not  take  half  an 
eye  to  see  that  even  if  Mr.  F.  Coit  Johnson  does  pay  higher 
wages  per  day,  he  does  not  pay  higher  wages  per  yard,  and 
that  therefore  the  advantage  is  with  him,  not  with  the  "  pau 
per  labor  "  of  Europe. 

At  No.  239  Meserole  Street,  Brooklyn,  I  found  a  tapestry- 
weaver  who  earned  the  highest  wages  paid  in  the  factory. 
What  were  the  highest  wages?  Ten  dollars  a  week!  This 
was  the  only  woman  I  found  earning  so  much.  The  average 
was  only  six  dollars. 

The  tapestry-weaver  and  her  sister,  who  worked  in  the  same 
place,  earned  together  $816  a  year.  They  live,  with  their 
widowed  mother,  in  three  rooms  on  the  third  floor  of  a  frame 
house.  'On  their  combined  wages,  $816,  the  three  women  and 
a  young  brother  live  plainly  and  comfortably.  The  floors  were 
scrubbed  clean ;  everything  bore  an  appearance  of  thrift  and 
neatness.  The  girls  subscribed  for  the  New  York  Sun,  and 
were  posted  as  to  current  events.  Their  diet  for  breakfast 
consisted  of  bread  and  butter,  coffee,  and  occasionally  a  piece 
of  sausage  or  cold  meat. left  over  from  the  preceding  day's  din 
ner.  Luncheon,  at  twelve  o'clock,  was  bread  and  butter,  cheese, 
or  cold  meat.  Dinner,  at  half-past  six,  prepared  by  the  old 
mother,  consisted  of  bread,  potatoes,  pork,  sometimes  roast-beef, 
coffee  in  winter  and  beer  in  summer.  The  cost  of  food  for 
the  four  was  eight  dollars  a  week,  or  a  fraction  less  than  ten 
cents  per  meal  per  person.  Here  is  a  leaf  from  the  family 
expense-book  for  one  week : 

Meats,  salt  and  fresh $2  00 

Potatoes  and  other  vegetables,  sugar,  eggs,  etc 3  00 

Bread,  and  flour  for  pies 75 

Beer,  during  three  or  four  months  in  the  year 49 

Tea  and  coffee 45 

Other  food 1  03 

Butter.  .  28 


Total  weekly  cost  of  food  for  four  persons $8  00 

Total  yearly  $416  00 

2* 


34  THE    TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

Brought  forward $416  00 

Clothing  of  eldest  daughter,  per  year $40  00 

Clothing  of  younger      "  "       35  00 

Clothing  of  mother  and  small  brother 40  00 

Total  yearly  cost  of  clothing  for  four  persons  ....  115  00 

Fuel  and  light,  per  year 75  00 

Rent,  per  year 72  00 

Other  expenses , 30  00 

Total  yearly  expenses $708  00 

Total  yearly  income .^ 816  00 

Annual  savings $108  00 

The  work-room  in  which  the  girls  weave  is  large  and  airy. 
A  tapestry-weaver  requires  strength. 

"Even  the  best  ones,"  said  the  girl  on  Meserole  Street, 
"  turn  out  only  six  or  eight  yards  fifty-two  inches  wide  in  one 
day.  The  cheap  grade  of  tapestry  is  more  easily  made,  ten  to 
twelve  yards  being  an  ordinary  day's  work.  In  summer  there 
is  a  half-holiday  on  Saturdays ;  the  rest  of  the  year  we  must 
be  at  the  mill  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  six  at  night." 

"Are  there  many  girls  at  the  factory  who  have  no  friends 
or  parents,  and  live  in  boarding  or  lodging  houses  ?" 

"  Not  many,"  answered  the  weaver.  "  Most  all  stay  at 
home,  or  board  with  friends  who  don't  charge  much.  They 
couldn't  very  well  do  any  other  way  on  four  or  five  dollars  a 
week.  A  friend  of  mine  tried  it  once,  but  she  couldn't  pay 
board  and  clothe  herself  on  her  wages.  She  was  not  very  strong, 
and  made  only  four  dollars  a  week." 

"  What  did  she  do  ?" 

The  tapestry- weaver  hesitated. 

"  Well,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  she  went  to  the  bad.  She 
had  a  little  sister  to  support.  There  was  rent  to  pay  and  coal 
to  buy,  and  four  dollars  a  week  wouldn't  do  it.  She  dropped 
away  from  work,  and — I  don't  like  to  talk  of  it.  Rich  folks 
can't  understand  a  poor  girl's  troubles." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  am  not  rich.  I  can  understand  all  you 
tell  me." 


FACTORY    LIFE.  35 

i 

But,  with  a  natural  delicacy,  she  refused  to  say  any  more 
about  her  unfortunate  friend. 

An  intelligent  sales-girl,  Agnes  S.,  of  204  Plymouth  Street, 
Brooklyn,  explains  in  a  letter  now  in  my  possession  why  I 
frequently  found  it  so  hard  to  elicit  information. 

"The  girls  in  our  store,"  writes  Miss  S.,  "are  afraid  to  talk  to  you. 
They  fear  it  will  get  back  to  the,boss  and  hurt  them — even  cause  their 
discharge.  You  ask  about  my  expenses.  Last  year  I  spent  exactly  $108.50 
for  board.  Nearly  all  the  rest  ($111.50)  went  for  clothes,  and  I  make  my 
own  dresses.  But  then  the  bosses  make  us  dress  nice,  and  it  costs  half 
our  wages.  I  hope  your  work  will  help  us,  and  that  the  Government  will 
make  the  price  of  dress  goods  come  down." 

Here  is  a  tariff  reformer,  though  an  unconscious  one.  This 
sales-girl  probably  does  not  understand  ten  lines  of  political 
economy,  but  forced  by  the  nature  of  her  occupation  to  spend 
a  large  portion  of  her  meagre  earnings  on  dress,  she  wants  the 
Government  to  help  her  by  making  "  the  price  of  dress  goods 
come  down." 

The  principal  way  for  the  Government  to  accomplish  this  is 
to  abolish  the  high  tariff  taxes ;  that  is  the  first  step  that  is 
being  demanded  by  wage-earners,  both  men  and  women,  the 
more  they  reflect  upon  the  way  "  protection  "  protects  them  by 
raising  prices  on  all  the  necessities  of  life. 


36  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER   III. 

IN    NEW    ENGLAND. 

HOW  FACTORY  OPERATIVES  LIVE  AND  WORK  ;  THEIR  HOME  LIFE. — 
AN  ITALIAN  AND  AN  AMERICAN  FAMILY  COMPARED. — SMALL  ECON 
OMIES. — A  ONE -CENT  ICE-CREAM  SALOON. — CRUEL  RESULTS  OF 
CHILD-LABOR. — CONSUMPTION  AND  INSANITY  ON  THE  INCREASE. 

THE  Riverside  Mills,  in  Olneyville,  Rhode  Island,  are  on  the 
Woonasquatucket  River.  I  crossed  over  this  very  small  river 
with  the  very  big  name,  and  went  through  the  mills,  where  are 
used  every  year  four  million  pounds  of  wool,  or  the  product  of 
about  a  million  sheep.  The  gas-bill  of  these  mills  was  former 
ly  $40,000  a  year:  now  electricity  furnishes  better  light  for 
$20,000.  The  great  halls,  crowded  with  machinery,  are  dark 
and  gloomy.  Operatives  on  the  inside  aisles  seldom  see  the 
light  of  God's  day,  seldom  feel  the  rays  of  the  glorious  sun. 
It  is  dark  when  they  go  to  the  mills  at  six  in  the  morning,  it 
is  dark  when  they  quit  at  night.  During  the  day  the  only 
light  they  see  is  that  artificially  supplied  by  electricity.  Weav 
ers  near  the  windows  are  more  fortunate.  They  require  .arti 
ficial  light  only  early  in  the  morning,  and  for  the  last  hour  or 
so  in  the  evening. 

Prior  to  January,  1886,  the  hours  of  labor  were  from  half- 
past  six  in  the  morning  until  half-past  six  in  the  evening.  The 
law  limiting  hours  of  labor  to  not  more  than  sixty  a  week  went 
into  effect  in  the  beginning  of  1886,  since  which  time  work  at 
the  Riverside  Mills  begins  at  seven  and  ceases  at  six,  with  an 
hour  at  noon  for  dinner.  Children  under  ten  are  forbidden  by 
law  to  work.  Between  ten  and  fourteen  they  are  required  to 
attend  school  three  months  each  year.  The  remainder  of  the 
time  they  may  work  if  they  wish,  and  if  their  parents  compel 
them.  Such  is  the  law,  but  it  is  often  evaded.  Some  parents 


IN   NEW    ENGLAND.  37 

do  not  hesitate  to  perjure  themselves,  and  declare  their  children 
of  the  legal  age  for  work  in  factories;  and  some  employers  do 
not  hesitate  to  nullify  the  law  by  affecting  to  believe  the  par 
ents'  falsehood.  On  my  visits  to  the  homes  of  operatives  I 
often  asked  the  ages  of  their  children  in  the  factories. 

"Do  you  want  their  real  age  or  their  factory  age?"  these 
mothers  would  reply,  laughing  at  their  own  deception. 

The  difference  between  the  real  and  the  factory  age  was  any 
where  from  one  to  four  years.  These  mothers  seemed  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  cruelty  of  making  such  young  children  work ; 
the  manufacturers  seemed  equally  callous  on  the  subject,  self 
ishly  preferring  to  hire  child-labor  rather  than  pay  the  few 
£ents  extra  demanded  by  adults.  The  births  of  children  should 
be  registered,  and  both  parent  and  manufacturer  be  punished  if 
found  working  a  child  under  age. 

I  met  a  group  of  girls,  some  of  them  mere  children,  on  their 
way  to  work  one  morning.  Their  homes  ought  to  be  in  the 
fields  by  the  road-side,  with  the  green  hills  around,  and  those 
girls  should  play  in  the  open  air,  the  blue  sky  above  them,  the 
sunlight  on  them.  It  is  cruel  to  permit  such  little  creatures, 
undeveloped  in  brain  and  muscle,  to  spend  ten  hours  a  day  amid 
the  rattle  and  roar  of  machinery,  breathing  the  foul  air  of  close 
rooms  filled  with  flying  particles  of  wool  or  cotton  fibres.  It 
would  be  more  merciful  to  drown  these  children  at  birth,  than 
thus  by  premature  labor  dwarf  and  disease  them,  body,  mind, 
and  soul.  Under  this  labor-torture  the  little  things  grow  pale 
and  thin,  pinched  and  rickety.  More  children  are  employed  in 
the  woollen-mills  of  Massachusetts  than  in  those  of  any  other 
State  except  Pennsylvania.  The  average  weekly  wages  of  the 
operatives,  counting  men,  women,  and  children,  is  $6.40 ;  in 
paper-mills,  where  few  children  are  employed,  the  average  is 
$6.60.  The  small  advantage  in  pay  is  doubtless  owing  to  lack 
of  competition  with  children ;  yet  to  save  this  sum,  this  pit 
tance  of  twenty  cents,  manufacturers  of  woollen  and  cotton 
goods  will  see  the  children  of  the  State  slowly  murdered  by 
work  in  their  mills.  The  increase  of  consumption  is  directly 


THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

traceable  to  the  enfeeblement  of  the  constitution  of  children  by 
work  unsuited  to  their  years.  According  to  the  census,  there 
are  5207  deaths  a  year  in  Massachusetts  from  consumption. 
In  Illinois,  with  double  the  population,  there  are  only  4653 ; 
in  Indiana,  3943  ;  in  Mississippi,  1287.  In  Mississippi,  during 
the  short  season  of  cotton-picking,  many  negro  children  work, 
but  not  in  factories.  The  negro  children  in  Mississippi  pick 
cotton  in  the  open  fields ;  the  white  children  in  Massachusetts 
pick  it  in  heated  rooms.  They  stoop  over  buzzing  looms,  they 
smell  the  grease,  breathe  fibres,  and  die  early  of  consumption 
and  other  diseases. 

In  1880  the  Pacific  Mills  paid  a  dividend  of  twenty-two  per 
cent,  on  a  capital  of  $2,500,000.  The  Merrimac  Mills  paid 
ten  per  cent. ;  the  Middlesex  Mills,  twenty  per  cent. ;  the  Bos 
ton  Belting  Company  paid  eleven  per  cent.  These  immense 
profits  are  made  by  working  children  ten  hours  a  day,  by  work 
ing  men  and  women  at  wages  ranging  from  $4.35  to  $6.00  a 
week,  and  by  increasing  the  price  of  the  necessaries  of  life  by 
the  imposition  of  a  tariff  tax  on  every  article  the  factory  hand 
uses.  How  the  arch  enemy  of  mankind  must  grin  in  gratified 
derision  at  this  destructive  policy !  Those  very  mills,  which 
were  paying  twenty-two  per  cent,  dividends,  and  sending  cards 
to  their  employes  virtually  commanding  them  to  vote  for  high 
tariffs,  giving  them  to  understand  that  free-trade  would  lose 
them  their  places — those  very  mills  were  paying  the  munificent 
wages  of  ninety  cents  a  day !  The  Willimantic  Linen  Com 
pany  pay  the  same  liberal  wages,  and  the  Willimantic  Company 
one  year  declared  a  dividend  of  eighty  per  cent. !  There  are 
in  Massachusetts  5127  insane,  5423  paupers,  and  5207  deaths 
from  consumption.  The  number  of  criminals  is  proportion 
ately  large.  Is  it  not  probable  that  a  close  connection  exists 
between  this  moral  and  financial  bankruptcy  of  the  people  and 
the  unhealthy  increase  of  the  wealth  of  manufacturers,  and 
their  cruel  grinding  down  of  the  working-people  ? 

While  looking  at  the  rows  of  joyless  children  stooping  over 
the  shuttles,  the  words  of  Mrs.  Browning  came  to  my  mind : 


IN    NEW    ENGLAND.  39 

"  Do  you  hear  the  children  weeping,  oh,  ray  brothers, 
Ere  the  sorrows  come  with  years? 

They  are  leaning  their  young  hearts  against  their  mothers, 
And  that  cannot  stop  their  tears. 
The  young  lambs  are  bleating  in  the  meadows, 
The  young  birds  are  chirping  in  their  nests, 
The  young  fawns  are  playing  with  their  shadows, 
The  young  flowers  are  blowing  toward  the  west; 
But  the  young,  young  child'ren,  oh,  my  brothers, 
They  are  weeping  bitterly ! 

They  are  weeping  in  the  play-time  of  the  others, 
In  the  country  of  the  free !" 

We  have  no  right  to  boast  of  freedom  so  lon<x  as  we  have 

£5  O 

slave  children  toiling  in  the  mills,  killing  themselves  by  inches. 
As  I  saw  them  going  to  their  work  in  the  morning,  it  looked 
like  a  funeral  procession  to  the  grave ;  at  night  it  was  the  same 
sad  procession  returning  from  the  grave ;  and  to  what  homes 
they  returned  !— i-mean,  dirty  quarters ;  miserable,  close  rooms 
in  crowded  tenement-houses.  The  negroes  in  the  South,  no 
matter  how  poor,  are  better  off.  They  have  space,  air,  light ; 
they  have  the  best  gifts  of  God  to  man — the  ground  to  walk 
on,  the  heavens  above,  pure  air  to  breathe,  and  the  health- 
giving  light  of  the  sun. 

Of  the  1900  persons  employed  in  the  Riverside  Mills,  1020 
are  women  and  children.  These  1900  persons  produce  yearly 
a  million  and  a  half  yards  of  worsted  cloth,  worth  from  one 
dollar  to  three  dollars  a  yard.  The  two  huge  1100  horse-power 
engines  that  furnish  the  power  to  make  this  cloth  consume 
ten  thousand  tons  of  coal  a  year. 

I  watched  the  warpers  at  work.  Five  hundred  bobbins,  or 
spools,  of  pink  thread  were  on  a  stand.  These  five  hundred 
pink  threads  pass  through  the  teeth  of  a  steel  comb.  A  young 
girl,  pale,  thin,  feeble-looking,  sat  on  a  stool  watching  the  maze 
of  threads  as  they  slowly  unwound  from  the  spools,  passing 
through  the  steel  comb  on  to  large  bobbins  below. 

When  the  quick  eye  of  this  girl  detects  an  imperfection  in 
the  thread,  she  stops  the  machinery,  corrects  the  imperfection, 


40  THE    TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

then  touches  a  lever,  and  starts  the  threads  on  their  endless 
journey  again.  Nine-tenths  of  her  waking  life  are  spent  on 
that  stool,  intently  gazing  at  the  maze  of  threads — a  life  well 
calculated  to  bring  on  softening  of  the  brain.  The  pay  for  this 
dismal  work  is  from  $4.85  to  $5.00  a  week. 

"  The  work  is  very  exacting,"  said  one  of  the  burlers.  "  The 
tiniest  knots  in  the  thread  must  be  straightened  out.  After  the 
cloth  leaves  our  hands  it  is  passed  over  a  roller.  An  inspector 
stands  facing  it,  slowly  pulling  the  cloth  over  the  roller.  When 
he  sees  a  place  where  the  thread  has  been  broken  and  left  un- 
mended,  he  makes  a  dash  at  the  cloth  with  his  blue  pencil  and 
marks  the  place.  These  marks  are  counted,  and  when  there 
are  more  than  forty  to  a  yard  we  are  fined  twenty-five  cents." 

The  constant  dread  of  these  fines  helps  on  the  brain-soften 
ing  process. 

Adjoining  the  mills  are  two  large  dining-halls,  furnished  with 
plain  tables  and  benches.  At  twelve  o'clock  the  army  of  men, 
women,  and  children  file  into  these  halls,  each  individual  carry 
ing  a  bucket  with  luncheon,  generally  of  beans,  pork,  bread 
and  butter,  and  pie.  In  pleasant  weather  they  eat  rapidly,  and 
in  fifteen  minutes  the  greater  number  are  through  and  out  on 
the  grounds,  to  pass  the  remainder  of  the  dinner-hour  in  walk 
ing,  chatting,  and  breathing  the  fresh  air.  Five  minutes  before 
one  the  whistle  blows,  and  the  operatives  scamper  back  to  the 
door-ways,  hurry  up  the  steep  flights  of  stairs,  and  precisely  at 
one  are  at  their  looms  and  spindles. 

Of  eleven  girls  whom  I  interviewed  there  was  one  earning 
eight  dollars  a  week ;  two  earned  six  dollars ;  two  earned  nine 
dollars ;  and  six  earned  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  Of  these 
eleven  girls,  selected  at  random,  all  but  one  lived  at  home ; 
some  paid  their  mothers  three  dollars  a  week  board ;  the  ma 
jority,  however,  gave  in  all  their  wages,  and  the  family  expen 
ditures  were  made  in  common.  The  one  girl  who  did  not  live 
at  home  was  from  Ireland.  She  earned  six  dollars  a  week,  five 
of  which  she  spent  on  herself,  saving  the  remaining  dollar  to 
send  to  her  parents  in  the  Old  Country. 


IX    NEW    ENGLAND.  41 

A  number  of  the  operatives  in  Providence  and  Olneyville 
live  in  tenement -houses  owned  by  the  mills,  and  rented  a 
little  cheaper  than  the  market  rate.  These  tenements  are  all 
built  on  the  same  plan — a  basement,  divided  in  the  centre  by 
a  narrow  hall,  with  rooms  on  each  side  let  to  different  families. 
The  first  floor,  reached  by  a  fourteen-foot  stair-way,  is  divided, 
like  the  basement,  into  two  Distinct  homes  by  a  narrow  hall. 
The  second  floor  is  the  same  as  the  first.  The  halls  are  com 
mon  to  all  the  tenants  of  the  house.  I  called  one  night  on 
the  family  of  a  coal-heaver  who  lived  somewhere  in  the  tene 
ment,  but  whether  in  top  or  bottom  I  did  not  know. 

"  Non  parlo  Englese,"  said  a  woman,  when  I  inquired  at  a 
door  in  the  basement. 

"  Bene,  signorina,  parliamo  Italiano  ?'*  and  proceeded  to  talk 
to  her  in  the  remnants  of  the  pigeon  Italian  I  had  brought 
back  with  me  from  Italy.  She  was  delighted  to  find  an  Ameri 
can  who  could  even  make  an  attempt  to  speak  her  beloved 
language,  and  chatted  most  volubly.  She  had  not  been  long 
from  Italy,  and  thought  the  wages  she  was  making  (sixty  cents 
a  day)  quite  princely.  In  Italy  she  had  made  but  a  lira  and  a 
half  (thirty  cents)  a  day  for  even  harder  work. 

"But,  signore,  in  America  everything  is  so  dear.  I  make 
more  money,  but,  of  a  verity,  I  must  spend  more." 

There  were  eight  in  her  family,  from  the  husband  down  to  a 
"  bambino  "  two  months  old.  Three  miserable  rooms  in  the 
cellar  or  basement, -renting  for  five  dollars  a  month,  constituted 
the  Italian  family's  home.  The  coal-heaver's  family,  for  whom 
I  was  looking,  occupied  five  rooms  on  the  floor  above  the  Ital 
ians.  The  sitting-room  was  about  twelve  feet  square,  cheaply 
carpeted  and  plainly  furnished.  Another  room,  fourteen  feet 
long  by  twelve  wide,  was  used  as  kitchen  and  dining-room. 
The  other  three  apartments  were  mere  closets,  with  little  or  no 
furniture  save  beds  and  chairs. 

"  Mother  does  the  cooking  and  house-work,"  said  one  of  the 
girls,  in  answer  to  my  questions.  "  Sal  and  Dorothy  and  me 
works  in  the  Atlantic  Woollen-mills,  weaving.  They  are  awful 


42  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

strict.  If  I  was  to  come  a  minute  after  a  quarter  to  seven  I 
wouldn't  be  allowed  to  enter,  and  would  have  to  lose  the  whole 
day.  If  a  little  oil  is  spilled,  or  a  thread  is  broken,  we  are 
fined  from  ten  to  forty  cents.  Some  weeks,  when  luck  is  bad, 
the  fines  eat  up  almost  half  our  wages.  Ma  cooks  breakfast 
by  six  o'clock,  and  we  never  leave  home  later  than  half-past 
six.  There  is  an  hour  at  noon,  but  it  is  too  far  to  come  home, 
so  we  carry  a  lunch,  and  get  dinner  at  seven  o'clock  when  we 
get  home." 

The  condition  of  this  family  is  shown  by  the  following  table, 
prepared  from  answers  to  numerous  questions  put  to  the  moth 
er  and  daughter : 

Table  of  a  Typical  New  England  Factory  Family. 
Condition. — Family  numbers  nine  :  parents,  three  daughters,  aged  21, 
18,  and  14 ;  a  boy,  aged  9,  girl,  aged  7,  and  two  babies ;  rooms  poorly  fur 
nished;  bad  light  and  bad  ventilation;  no  privacy.  The  father  is  a  day 
laborer  in  a  coal-yard ;  the  mother  tends  the  babies,  cooks,  and  sews  ;  the 
three  oldest  children  work  in  woollen-mills. 

Earnings  of  Family : 

Of  the  father $7  00 

"      eldest  girl 5  00 

"      18-year-old  daughter 4  00 

"      14-year-old  daughter 3  25 

Total  income  per  week $19  25 — 

Yearly  (48  weeks) $924  00 

Diet. — Breakfast :  Bread  and  butter  and  coffee.  Dinner :  Pork  and 
beans ;  sometimes  beef,  potatoes,  coffee  ;  sometimes  pie  or  pudding.  Sup 
per  :  Bread  and  butter,  coffee,  and  occasionally  portion  of  dinner  warmed 
over. 

Cost  of  Living : 

Bread  and  flour,  per  month $6  00 

Sugar,  vegetables,  soap,  and  other  groceries 40  00 

Meats,  salt  and  fresh 14  00 

Milk 1  50 

Total  cost  of  food  per  month  for  family  of  nine.  .$61  50 

Yearly  ditto $738  00 

Rent  per  month,  $6 ;  per  year 72  00 


IN    NEW    ENGLAND.  43 

Brought  forward $810  00 

Clothing 100  00 

Incidentals 11  00 

Total  yearly  cost  of  living $921  00 

Total  yearly  earnings 924  00 

Balance $     o  00 

This  is  a  gain  of  thirty-three  and  a  third  cents  a  year  for  each 
member  of  the  family.  How  long,  at  this  rate,  will  it  take  a  New 
England  factory  family  to  lay  something  by  for  a  rainy  day? 

Table  of  another  New  England  Factory  Family. 

Condition. — Five  in  family  .  widowed  mother,  two  sons,  and  two  daugh 
ters.  The  mother  cooks  and  works  at  home,  the  two  girls  work  in  worsted- 
mills  ;  both  sons  are  laborers  at  odd  jobs,  and  do  not  have  steady  work ; 
the  girls  look  faded  and  tired ;  they  are  at  the  mills  twelve  hours  a  day 
five  days  in  the  week ,  on  Saturdays  work  only  seven  hours  and  a  half. 

Earnings  of  the  two  daughters,  $5  each  per  week  :  $480  per  year. 

Potatoes  cost  23  cents  a  peck ;  butter,  25  to  30  cents  a  pound ;  rump 
steak,  12  cents  a  pound;  pork  steak,  13  cents  a  pound. 

Cost  of  Living: 

Potatoes per  week $0  46 

Butter "         75 

Steak,  four  days  in  the  week  .       "         78 

Eggs '. "         75 

Flour  for  bread  and  pies "         1  00 

Food  of  all  other  kinds "         1  76 

Weekly  cost  of  food  for  five  persons $5  50 ;  per  year,  $286  00 

Wood  and  coal per  year 19  00 

Kerosene  at  15  cents  a  gallon .       "       20  00 

Rent  at  $5  60  a  month "       67  20 

Clothing ;  .       "       75  00 

Incidentals "       12  80 

Total  yearly  cost  of  living $480  00 

In  the  above  table  no  account  is  taken  of  the  earnings  of  the 
two  sons.  They  were  drunk  half  the  time  and  idle  half  the 
other,  making  it  impossible  to  estimate  with  any  accuracy  the 
amount  of  their  earnings.  Here  the  gain  is  nothing,  and  the  op 
eratives  seem  absolutely  without  a  chance  to  save  and  prepare 
themselves  against  sickness  or  other  unforeseen  emergency. 


44  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  compare  these  New  England  factory 
families  with  the  life  of  factory  operatives  in  Europe.  Here 
is  a  table  taken  from  "A  Tramp  Trip,"  p.  60,  showing  the  con 
dition  of  a  family  of  Italian  woollen-weavers: 

"  Condition. — Family  of  five :  parents,  two  children  five  and  six  years  of 
age,  and  mother  of  the  father.  Parents  work  at  hand-looms ;  the  grand 
mother  spins  (at  home),  attends  to  the  children  and  to  two  goats,  the  milk 
of  the  goats  being  sold  at  four  cents  per  quart.  Occupy  a  room  with  earth 
floor  on  a  level  with  the  ground;  room  divided  into  two  compartments. 
Weaving-room  on  same  street,  up  a  steep  hill ;  only  six  looms ;  level  of 
room  three  feet  below  level  of  street ;  no  windows,  lighted  by  the  door. 
Each  weaver  has  a  small  bucket  or  jug  of  hot  ashes  or  coals.  This  the 
women  put  under  their  dresses  ;  the  men  place  them  at  their  feet.  In  un- 
-usually  cold  weather  a  large  pan  of  coals  is  set  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
The  weavers  quit  their  work  occasionally  to  sit  for  a  few  minutes  around 
this  pan  and  warm  their  hands  and  feet. 

"  The  fuel  for  this  primitive  heating  arrangement  consists  to  some  ex 
tent  of  brushwood,  clippings  from  old  grape-vines,  etc.  Coal  is  imported 
from  England.  Price  per  ton  at  West  Mediterranean  ports,  $5  to  $6 ; 
price  in  interior,  $7  to  $10. 

"Diet. — Breakfast :  Bread,  coffee  or  wine.  Dinner:  Macaroni  or  cheese, 
finnochio,  bread,  sometimes  tripe,  wine.  Supper :  Bread,  wine  or  coffee. 

Amount  earned  by  Family  : 

Earnings  of  father,  per  year $126  00 

"  mother,      "        97  50 

"         "  grandmother  (spinning) 48  75 

"  (sale  of  milk) 43  80 

Total  yearly  earnings $316  05 

Cost  of  Living : 

Rent $14  40 

Bread 53  00 

Macaroni 69  40 

Groceries,  finnochio,  olives,  eggs,  oil,  etc 72  50 

Wine 51  00 

Coffee  and  milk 17  25 

Wooden  clogs  and  leather  shoes 7  50 

Clothing 19  65 

Iron  bedstead,  chairs,  etc 8  70 

Total  yearly  expenditures $313  40 

Balance $     265" 


IX   NEW   ENGLAND.  45 

The  investigator,  who  knows  how  small  are  their  wages,  and 
sees  their  uninviting  surroundings,  may  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  wage-earners  of  this  class  are  quite  particular  as  to  the 
quality  of  food  they  buy.  They  will  go  in  threadbare  cloth 
ing,  and  live  in  dark  closets,  may  even  limit  themselves  in  the 
quantity  of  their  food,  but  it  must  be  of  good  quality. 

"  No  one  can  say  that  I  do, not  give  my  family  the  best  of 
flour,  the  finest  sugar,  the  very  best  quality  of  meat." 

This  is  the  boast  of  the  coal-laborer  earning  seven  dollars  a 
week.  The  families  of  lawyers,  of  book-keepers  with  incomes 
of  two  thousand  dollars  or  less  a  year,  will  often  be  content 
with  a  cheaper  grade  of  flour,  a  cheaper  sugar,  and  a  cheaper 
meat.  Economy  in  this  line  is  scorned  by  the  poorer  work-" 
man.  He  wants  the  "  best,"  and  spends  his  last  cent  to  get  it. 
Quite  good  butter  was  selling  in  the  market  at  twenty -five 
cents  a  pound,  but  the  coal-laborer's  family  were  using  butter 
costing  twenty-nine  cents.  No  one  wishes  American  workmen 
to  adopt  the  unquestionably  lower  standard  of  living  prevailing 
in  Europe,  yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  a  study  of  economy 
would  do  no  harm.  The  soldo  (cent)  which  an  Italian  saves 
for  his  Sunday  holiday  is  with  us  tossed  aside  or  thrown  away. 
It  is  too  small  to  be  appreciated,  yet  even  a  cent  is  not  so 
small  as  to  be  despised,  as  I  found  when  tramping  over  Eu 
rope.  One  cent  a  day,  if  put  out  at  six  per  cent,  interest, 
would  in  fifty  years  amount  to  nine  hundred  and  fifty  dollars; 
ten  cents  so  saved  and  put  out  at  interest  would  amount  to 
nine  thousand  five  hundred  and  four  dollars.  Half  a  dollar 
saved  daily  and  put  at  six  per  cent,  interest  would  amount  in 
fifty  years  to  the  snug  sum  of  forty-seven  thousand  five  hun 
dred  and  twenty  dollars. 

In  Europe  so  hard  is  the  struggle  for  life,  the  working- 
classes,  though  ever  so  thrifty,  are  barely  able  to  support  exist 
ence.  They  cannot  even  put  by  the  modest  sum  of  one  cent. 
In  Florence  I  had  a  good  opportunity  to  study  Italian  economy. 
Within  five  minutes'  walk  of  the  celebrated  Piazza  Dei  Signore 
is  a  narrow  street,  given  up  to  working-men's  stores,  lodging- 


46  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

houses,  and  cheap  restaurants.  There  was  one  place  much 
frequented  by  the  peasants  who  came  to  the  city  on  Sundays 
to  hear  mass.  A  ladder  reached  from  the  stone  floor  to  a  kind 
of  loft  fifteen  feet  above.  Up  this  climbed  two  fiddlers,  pulled 
the  ladder  up  after  them,  and  scratched  off  Italian  airs  while 
the  peasants  in  their  gay  costumes  ate  ice-cream  below.  The 
ice-cream,  served  in  bowls  scarcely  larger  than  salt-cellars,  cost 
one  cent  per, bowl.  How  careful  those  poor  people  were  with 
their  tiny  dishes  of  cream  !  How  they  nibbled  at  it,  taking  at 
a  time  only  the  smallest  taste  that  it  might  last  as  long  as  pos 
sible,  and  that  they  might  not  have  to  get  up  too  soon,  and 
thus  lose  some  of  the  music !  These  were  occasions  in  their 
lives  to  look  forward  to,  and,  when  over,  to  look  back  upon  as 
pleasant  to  be  remembered.  In  that  Florentine  restaurant  when 
I  laid  down  cinque  soldi  (five  cents)  and  ordered  five  plates  of 
cream  at  once,  the  good  people  stared.  Such  extravagance 
raised  me  one  hundred  per  cent,  in  their  estimation.  They 
immediately  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was  the  fortu 
nate  owner  of  a  small  shop,  and  possibly  of  two  or  three  asses. 

Even  this  extreme  economy  does  not  bring  much  reward  in 
the  densely  populated  and  oppressed  States  of  Europe.  What 
it  may  accomplish  in  America  is  shown  by  those  cases  where 
Italians  and  Germans  come  to  our  land  bringing  with  them 
nothing  but  their  habits  of  industry,  thrift,  and  economy,  and 
become  in  a  few  years  substantial,  prosperous  citizens. 

I  saw  a  man  past  the  middle  age  board  the  steamer  in  Genoa 
for  New  York.  He  related  with  pride  how  he  had  worked  for 
years  carrying  stone,  how  he  had  saved  a  few  hundred  lire,  and 
how  he  intended  to  pass  his  remaining  years  in  ease  sitting  on 
a  box  dozing  and  selling  pea-nuts  and  candy.  This  was  the 
goal  of  his  ambition.  He  may  go  no  farther  in  the  road  to 
wealth,  but  his  children,  with  their  thorough  knowledge  of 
economy,  will  probably  bloom  out  into  prosperous  fruit  mer 
chants  or  dealers  in  Italian  wines.  I  know  two  Italians  who 
came  to  America  in  the  steerage,  with  their  worldly  possessions 
done  up  in  a  red  bandana  handkerchief.  They  began  life  in 


IN    XEW    ENGLAND.  47 

New  York  shoving  a  banana-cart.  One  of  these  Italians  is  now 
a  wholesale  fruit  merchant ;  the  other  deals  in  imported  wines 
and  liquors,  and  is  worth  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  These 
satisfactory  results  were  achieved  primarily  because  the  two 
men  had  good  business  sense;  but  it  is  safe  to  say,  except  for 
their  habits  of  economy  learned  in  Italy,  their  prosperity  would 
not  be  a  quarter  of  what  it  now  is.  In  their  own  country  this 
rise  would  be  next  to  impossible.  Taxation  is  too  high,  popu 
lation  too  dense,  royalty  and  standing  armies  too  dear. 

Besides  the  one  great  cause  at  the  bottom  of  all  low  wages, 
to  which  I  shall  refer  at  length  in  a  future  chapter,  there  is  a 
cause  which  in  some  degree  tends  to  lower  New  England  factory 
wages  in  particular.  I  refer  to  the  competition  which  New  Eng 
land  factory  operatives  must  undergo  with  French  Canadians. 

On  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  in  Lower  Canada,  live  a 
class  of  people  closely  resembling  the  French  peasantry  in  hab 
its  of  thrift  and  economy.  The  average  farmer  in  this  section 
owns  sixty  acres,  worth  four  or  five  thousand  dollars.  He  has 
his  hay-field,  his  corn,  his  wheat,  a  small  flock  of  sheep,  a  few 
cattle,  and,  in  fact,  a  small  supply  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life. 
The  head  of  the  house  attends  to  the  cultivation  of  every  inch 
of  his  sixty  acres ;  the  wife  sews,  spins,  weaves,  and  does  house 
work  ;  one  daughter  milks,  one  son  does  general  farm-work. 
Now,  if  there  are  other  sons  and  other  daughters,  they  go  to  the 
"  States,"  not  to  live,  but  to  work  a  few  years  and  see  the  world, 
while  making  what  seems  to  them  high  wages.  Accustomed  to 
the  frugal  life  of  a  Canadian  farm,  and  to  small  wages,  they  are 
happy  to  work  for  the  New  England  factory  for  ninety  cents  or 
a  dollar  a  day.  In  a  few  years  the  Canadian  returns  to  the  St. 
Lawrence  and,  if  a  girl,  marries  one  of  her  neighbors ;  or,  if  a 
man,  gets  his  father  to  help  him  buy  a  farm  and  settles  down  to 
a  quiet,  humdrum  life,  as  his  ancestors  have  done  before  him. 

The  native  American  operatives,  who  see  these  Canadians 
come  in  and  undersell  them  in  the  labor  market,  are  beginning 
to  think  a  tariff  on  foreign  laborers,  not  on  foreign  goods,  is 
what  would  best  protect  American  working-men. 


48  THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
NEW  ENGLAND — continued. 

THE  KIND  OF  LITERATURE  FACTORY  PEOPLE  READ.— BOARDING- 
HOUSE  KEEPERS. — I  FIND  A  BABY  IN  THE  WEEDS. — SAINTS  AND 
FOUNDLINGS. — LIFE  OF  THE  NUNS.  —  AMONG  THE  SHAKERS. — 
THEIR  CURIOUS  WORSHIP  AND  DANCES. 

THERE  is  a  model  New  England  village  on  the  Connecticut 
River  known  as  the  "  Paper  City."  In  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  that  city,  Holyoke,  are  manufactories  employing  a  combined 
capital  of  $12,000,000.  A  great  water  company  has  built  a  dam 
across  the  river,  has  trimmed  the  banks  with  stone  walls,  and 
cut  long  canals  out  of  solid  rocks. 

In  1845  there  were  only  fourteen  houses  in  this  place.  In 
1850  the  population  was  3245;  in  1880,  25,915.  At  first  a 
single  man,  struck  by  the  clearness  of  the  water  and  the  cheap 
ness  of  power,  started  a  mill  here.  In  six  years  he  was  able 
to  buy  a  new  mill  with  the  profits  of  the  old  one.  To-day 
there  are  twenty-three  paper-mills,  making  one-half  of  the 
writing  paper  used  in  the  United  States.  They  turn  out 
350,000  pounds  of  paper  a  day. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  the  free-trade  sentiment  so  strong  in 
a  manufacturing  town  like  Ilolyoke.  The  Paper  World  said 
once : 

"  It  is  now  time  for  the  paper-makers  to  see  more  of  foreign 
markets.  A  cutting  down  in  the  rate  of  tariffs  will  greatly 
assist  in  this,  and  would  give  the  paper-makers  a  large  part  of 
the  world  for  their  domain." 

Another  paper,  The  Manufacturer,  also  published  in  Holy 
oke,  advocates  the  same  principles. 

I  asked  at  the  library  in  Holyoke  what  class  of  books  opera 
tives  usually  call  for. 


NEW    ENGLAND — CONTINUED.  49 

"  The  boys  and  girls  rarely  read  anything  else  than  detective 
stories,"  was  the  librarian's  reply. 

"  Do  they  read  papers  ?" 

"Not  the  large  dailies.  There  are  a  few  cheap  evening 
sheets,  filled  with  local  news,  which  have  a  good  circulation 
among  factory  employes." 

I  asked  one  of  the  girls  if  she  ever  went  to  lectures. 

"  Sometimes  we  go  on  Sundays,"  was  the  reply,  "  though 
most  of  us  visit  then.  The  bosses  don't  like  us  to  go  to  lect 
ures." 

I  remembered,  then,  that  once  when  the  Commissioner  of 
Immigration  from  a  Southern  State  had  endeavored  to  get  the 
young  operatives  together  to  hear  him  describe  the  climate 
and  advantages  of  his  State,  they  told  him  they  dared  not  listen 
for  fear  they  would  be  turned  out  of  their  places. 

The  life  of  a  spinning-mill  operative  is  bliss  compared  to 
the  sickening,  soul-killing  occupation  of  the  grinders,  chemical- 
makers,  and  type-founders.  In  the  large  room  where  children 
grind  the  rough  edge  off  knife-blades,  imperceptible  particles 
of  dust  will  fly  up  in  spite  of  the  elaborate  blowing  apparatus. 
In  the  chemical  works  I  saw  a  set  of  emaciated,  wan-looking 
women  with  young  yet  wrinkled  and  yellow  faces.  Some  were 
not  over  sixteen,  but  had  been  working  in  mercury  several 
years.  The  average  life  in  the  mercury  room  does  not  exceed 
eight  years. 

Young  men  when  advised  by  moralists  to  marry  are  often 
told  that  living  is  cheaper  for  two  than  for  one.  Whether  or 
not  this  is  always  true  I  cannot  say  ;  I  am  of  the  opinion,  how 
ever,  that  the  married  factory  operative  generally  has  the  advan 
tage  over  his  unmarried  brother.  All  the  eligible  members  of 
his  family  will  be  employed  at  the  mills,  and  if  cottages  are 
owned  by  the  factory,  the  man  of  family  will  usually  get  his 
rent  at  a  reduced  rate.  Then  he  will  take  one  or  two  unmar 
ried  working-men  as  boarders,  and  thus  eke  out  a  living.  I 
came  across  some  families  who  kept  as  many  as  six  or  eight 
young  men  boarders,  and  almost  made  their  expenses  from  that 
3 


50  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

source  alone.  Sometimes  I  stopped  with  factory  families  my 
self.  They  afforded  more  opportunity  to  observe  the  charac 
teristics  of  the  people.  The  family  with  whom  I  boarded  in 
Providence  had  a  good  breakfast  every  day  in  the  week  ex 
cepting  Sunday.  On  that  morning  the  fare  invariably  consisted 
of  bread  and  butter,  and  pork  and  sweetened  beans,  which  I 
found  detestable,  though  the  rest  seemed  to  find  them  palata 
ble  enough. 

The  mistress  of  my  boarding-house  in  Lowell  was  an  un 
pleasant,  sour-faced  widow,  who  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  a 
chronic  case  of  dissatisfaction  with  the  world  and  everybody 
in  it.  An  old  beggar  knocked  at  the  door  one  morning  while 
we  were  at  breakfast,  and  meekly  asked  for  something  to  eat. 

"  Oh,  these  beggars  !"  muttered  the  sour-faced  woman,  shut 
ting  the  door  in  the  old  man's  face ;  "  they  are  the  bother  of 
rny  life.  When  people  get  too  old  to  work  they  ought  to  be 
killed." 

Her  father,  an  old,  gray-haired  man  eighty-six  years  of  age, 
sat  at  the  table  and  received  the  full  benefit  of  this  amiable 
remark.  As  a  rule,  those  who  have  experienced  hard  knocks 
in  the  battle  of  life  are  apt  to  have  a  kindly  feeling  for  people 
who  have  to  stand  still  harder  knocks.  Charity  and  sympathy 
for  suffering  is  much  more  characteristic  of  the  poor  than  of 
the  rich,  but  the  Lowell  widow  was  a  decided  exception  to  this 
rule.  She  not  only  had  no  sympathy  for  beggars,  but  had 
little  for  her  boarders,  and  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from  her 
meagre  table.  My  boarding-house  keeper  in  Providence, 
Rhode  Island,  was  of  a  different  type — a  round,  fat,  talkative 
person,  entirely  too  social.  She  would  bother  me  with  friendly 
chatter  even  when  I  was  writing  in  my  room  of  a  morning. 

11  You  don't  give  me  much  trouble,"  she  would  say,  with  a 
view  to  making  herself  agreeable  while  making  up  my  bed ; 
"but  the  man  in  the  next  room  is  awful  troublesome.  He 
smokes  in  bed,  and  I  have  to  shake  the  ashes  off  his  sheets 
every  morning.  I  never  had  any  trouble  with  my  tother  lodger, 
Mr.  Long,  but  his  wife  has.  They're  a  funny  couple.  If  he 


NEW    ENGLAND — CONTINUED.  51 

were  only  as  long  as  his  name,  it  mightn't  be  so  bad,  but 
he  isn't.  He's  a  little  bit  of  a  fellow — only  up  to  his  wife's 
shoulder.  They're  just  married,  but  have  quarrels  all  the  same. 
He  comes  home  tired,  and  wants  to  read  the  paper,  but  she  is 
for  going  out  to  some  place.  Then  they  have  a  fuss.  My 
girl  Sal  says  she'd  ruther  never  marry  than  carry  on  that  way. 
However,  I  don't  guess  Sal  '11  ever  get  married.  She  ain't  but 
twenty-six,  and  she  ain't  got  a  sound  tooth  in  her  head.  All 
her  upper  teeth  are  false,  and  the  doctor  says  the  others  '11 
have  to  come  out  this  winter.  Somehow  we  have  bad  luck  in 
our  family.  My  husband  has  been  laid  up  with  rheumatics 
half  the  year.  I  have  dizziness  in  the  head,  until  I'm  that 
afeard  I  guess  I'll  tumble  down-stairs  some  day." 

Coming  home  one  night  from  the  houses  of  some  factory 
operatives,  I  heard  a  sort  of  smothered,  crying  sound  in  the 
weeds  near  the  sidewalk.  It  was  in  a  poor  part  of  the  city, 
not  closely  built  up.  At  the  place  where  I  heard  the  noise  one 
side  of  the  block  was  entirely  vacant.  I  poked  about  in  the 
weeds  with  my  umbrella ;  it  struck  upon  a  soft  bundle :  the 
sound  came  from  that  bundle.  I  picked  it  up,  and,  to  my 
amazement,  found  a  wee  specimen  of  humanity  in  it.  Had 
it  oeen  an  elephant  I  would  not  have  been  more  nonplussed. 
I  could  not  leave  it  there  to  perish,  and  to  walk  about  the 
streets  at  midnight  with  a  squalling  infant  in  my  arms  was  not 
pleasant.  The  situation  was  painful.  An  hour  passed — I 
thought  it  a  dozen — before  I  found  a  policeman  and  got  rid 
of  my  wailing  bundle.  Not  being  a  family  man,  I  am  not 
practised  in  the  fine  art  of  holding  babies,  and  all  the  time  I 
carried  that  unhappy  infant  I  was  trembling  with  fear  lest  I 
should  let  it  fall  and  smash  its  little  head  open,  and  be  held 
for  murder  in  the  first  degree.  The  child  was  doubtless  that 
of  some  poor  girl  who,  barely  able  to  support  herself  on  fac 
tory  wages,  abandoned  her  babe  in  despair. 

One  does  not  find  a  baby  in  the  streets  every  night.  When 
safely  rid  of  the  burden,  I  was  quite  proud  ofthe  achievement, 
and  soon  after  related  the  incyaJOJT'j^ojl^flQisUj eri n g.  An 

OF  TH* 


52  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

innocent  young  lady  asked  whether  the  infant  were  a  boy  or  a 
girl.  To  my  great  confusion,  I  was  compelled  to  admit  total 
ignorance  on  that  important  point. 

Three  months  afterwards  I  visited  the  foundling  asylum  to 
which  the  policeman  had  taken  the  baby.  A  Sister  in  sober 
costume  of  gray  opened  the  door  and  conducted  me  to  a  .large 
parlor,  where,  while  awaiting  the  Mother  Superior,  I  observed 
the  stiff  furniture :  the  rows  of  chairs  ranged  in  precise  lines 
around  the  walls,  the  pictures  of  saints  and  priests,  and  the  im 
age  of  the  Virgin  Mary  in  an  alcove  over  the  door. 

The  Mother  Superior  consulted  her  books.  Three  foundlings 
had  been  admitted  the  same  day  my  find  had  arrived.  All  three 
were  living,  and  there  was  no  way  of  distinguishing  "  my  "  baby 
from  the  other  two. 

I  was  permitted  to  go  through  the  buildings  and  look  at  the 
score  and  more  of  infants — some  lying  on  their  little  beds,  some 
in  baby-carriages,  some  crawling  on  the  floor.  A  few  were 
healthy,  robust-looking ;  the  majority  had  pinched  faces ;  some 
looked  wrinkled  and  old.  This  comes  from  want  of  mother's 
milk :  artificial  food  is  almost  fatal  to  new-born  babies.  In  the 
next  hall  I  saw  children  from  eighteen  months  to  four  years 
old.  The  moment  we  entered,  the  whole  gang  of  them,  some 
fifty  or  more,  scrambled  down  from  their  seats  and  toddled  up 
to  me  like  a  flock  of  chickens,  caught  hold  of  my  hands,  my 
coat-tail,  my  legs,  all  in  a  chorus  crying  "  Howdy  !  howdy  ! 
howdy  !"  The  Mother  Superior  looked  on  smiling  a  moment ; 
then,  with  maternal  command,  she  said, 

"  To  your  places,  children  !"  and  the  fifty  little  chickens  flut 
tered  back  to  their  little  benches,  and  popped  down  and  stared 
at  me  with  their  hundred  little  round  eyes.  They  certainly 
were  well  trained,  and  seemed  to  be  happy  and  healthy.  The 
Mother  Superior  said  if  a  child  could  be  kept  alive  until  past 
the  teething-time,  it  has  a  fair  chance  to  live  and  grow  strong. 

Painted  on  the  polished  floors  were  lines  and  circles.  A  girl, 
thirteen  years  old  and  blind  in  one  eye,  drummed  a  march  on 
a  piano,  while  the  motley  crew  of  infants  in  calico  gowns 


NEW    ENGLAND — CONTINUED. 


53 


marched  around,  following  the  figures  indicated  on  the  floor. 
One  black-eyed  little  rascal  of  three  years  was  rather  untamable. 
Every  time  the  line  passed  me  he  broke  ranks  and  waddled  to 
my  chair,  where  he  would  stare  at  me  with  his  wondering  black 
eyes,  until  the  Sister  grabbed  him  by  his  fat  arms  and  put  him 
back  in  place  again. 

Overlooking  this  curious' scene  was  a  wooden  figure  of  the 
Virgin,  that  sat  on  a  bracket  over  the  piano.  When  I  arose  to 
leave,  the  infants  again  clattered  up  to  me  to  say  good-by, 


FOUNDLING    CHILDREN    EATING   DINNER. 

every  little  fist  stuck  out  in  the  friendliest  way.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  I  tore  myself  loose  and  made  my  escape.  The 
dining-hall  adjoined  the  kitchen  ;  the  tables  and  chairs  were 
all  on  a  miniature  scale.  The  little  toddlers,  as  they  disposed 
of  their  soup  and  mashed  potatoes,  looked  as  solemn  and  dig 
nified  as  judges.  The  oldest  was  just  five ;  yet  so  well  drilled 
were  they  that  they  fed  themselves,  and  ate  in  peace  and  har 
mony  with  their  neighbors. 

A  very  saintly  looking  Sister  in  the  laundry  showed  me  how 
her  wonderfully  stiff,  fly-away-looking  bonnet  was  ironed  and 


54  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

made  to  stand  out.  She  took  pride  in  the  work,  and  was  as 
pleased  as  a  child  at  the  compliments  I  bestowed.  Speaking 
of  the  life  they  led,  the  Mother  Superior  said, 

"  We  arise  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  pray  until  five ;  then 
we  eat  breakfast;  from  half-past  five  to  six  we  tell  beads;  then 
begin  the  duties  of  the  day  :  some  Sisters  nurse,  some  cook, 
others  work  in  the  laundry,  others  sew.  Dinner  is  at  eleven, 
then  prayers.  From  two  to  three  is  meditation  hour.  During 
that  time  we  all  sit  together  and  silently  meditate ;  not  a  word 
is  spoken.  Our  prayer-books  or  some  holy  work  of  the  fathers 
are  in  our  laps  to  suggest  pious  thoughts.  By  nine  o'clock, 
often  by  half-past  eight,  we  are  in  bed.  Such  is  our  daily 
routine." 

"  Do  you  ever  weary  of  the  routine  ?" 

The  Mother  Superior  smiled  gravely. 

"We  should  never  weary  of  well-doing,"  she  said.  "One 
of  our  Sisters  has  been  blind  twenty-two  years.  In  all  that 
time  she  has  not  missed  a  day  in  the  chapel.  Every  morning 
she  is  up  at  four  o'clock.  For  an  hour  she  prays  on  her 
knees,  then  an  hour  standing.  After  breakfast  she  prays  again. 
Her  prayers  are  worth  to  us  far  more  than  any  work  she  could 
do." 

"  She  is  a  saint,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  she  is  a  saint,"  replied  the  Mother  Superior,  with  per 
fect  faith. 

Before  leaving  the  establishment  I  was  shown  an  old,  old- 
looking  picture  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 

"  See  the  wonderful  sweetness  of  her  expression,"  said  the 
Mother  Superior ;  "  that  painting  has  worked  miracles.  A 
woman  who  had  been  afflicted  nine  years  with  paralysis  went 

to  Father  0 ,  and  begged  him  to  pray  for  her.  He  did  so. 

Masses  were  said  before  this  painting  for  nine  consecutive 
mornings.  On  the  ninth  morning  the  woman  arose  from  her 

bed,  and  walked  two  miles  to  Father  O 's  church  to  return 

thanks  to  him  and  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary  for  her  miraculous 
cure." 


NEW   ENGLAND — CONTINUED.  55 

As  a  contrast  to  this  phase  of  religious  feeling,  I  will  picture 
another  no  less  earnest  in  faith. 

From  Pittsfield,  in  the  western  edge  of  Massachusetts,  I  drove 
over  the  mountains  to  the  Mount  Lebanon  Shaker  settlement. 
It  was  Sunday,  and,  fortunately,  the  weather  was  fine,  otherwise 
I  would  have  missed  seeing  the  Shakers'  way  of  worshipping 
God.  The  Shakers  do  not  consider  cleanliness  next  to  godli 
ness —  they  consider  it  godliness  itself.  They  will  not  hold 
services  in  rainy  weather  lest  mud  might  be  carried  by  the  feet 
into  their  church,  the  floor  of  which  is  not  carpeted,  but  always 
scrupulously  polished  and  clean.  The  meeting-hall  was  crowd 
ed  with  Shakers,  and  perhaps  thirty  or  forty  "  world's  people  " 
who  went  to  see  the  curious,  not  to  say  fantastic,  performance. 
\Yhen  I  went  in,  a  tall  slim  woman  who  held  herself  so  straight 
that  she  leaned  backward,  darted  on  me  a  sharp  glance  with 
her  sharp,  black  eyes,  and  readily  detecting  that  I  was  not  a 
Shaker  saint,  but  a  poor  "  world's  man,"  sent  to  me  one  of  the 
Shaker  brothe"c,  who  showed  me  where  I  was  to  sit,  with  the 
other  world's  people.  The  Shaker  congregation  did  not  sit 
down — they  took  their  stands,  the  men  in  one  row,  the  women 
in  another,  and  began  to  sing  at  first  in  a  slow7,  chanting  way, 
each  one  keeping  time  with  both  hands  waving  up  and  down 
with  a  gentle  motion  as  the  two  rows  marched  around  in  a 
wide  circle,  meeting,  mingling,  crossing,  and  turning  in  a  won 
derful  way,  moving  faster  and  faster  as  the  music  of  their  song- 
grew  more  and  more  exciting.  I  noticed  that  the  tall  woman 
who  had  eyed  me  so  keenly  every  time  she  passed  by  the 
"  world's  people  "  darted  at  us  warning  glances  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  Make  no  noise,  or  you'll  catch  it !" 

The  dress  of  these  people  is  quaint  and  severely  simple ;  the 
women's  gowns,  utterly  destitute  of  frills  and  furbelows,  hang 
straight  down  to  the  ankles;  the  men  wear  broad-brimmed 
hats  and  loose,  home-made  garments.  The  singing  and  dancing 
went  on  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  then  all  stood  still,  and  one  of 
the  Sisters  was  moved  to  make  an  address,  after  which  the  ex 
ercises  ended. 


56 


THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 


The  first  Shaker  settlement  was  founded  by  an  English 
woman  named  Ann  Lee.  Being  persecuted  and  called  a  luna 
tic,  this  woman  came  to  New  York  in  1774.  Six  years  later 
the  settlement  at  Mount  Lebanon  was  under  way.  The  society 
is  now  wealthy,  owning  a  good  deal  of  land  and  valuable  build 
ings.  Recently  they  sold  a  large  tract  of  land  with  barns, 


SHAKER    WORSHIP. 


houses,  etc.,  to  a  Mr.  Burnham,  who  has  opened  an  industrial 
school  for  homeless  boys  and  girls.  At  the  opening  in  Sep 
tember,  1887,  twenty -five  boys  were  booked  ready  to  learn 
farming,  or  some  one  of  the  trades  that  are  to  be  taught  at 
this  school.  The  town  of  New  Lebanon,  near  which  is  situated 
this  industrial  school,  seems  to  have  imbibed  the  Shaker  idea 
of  celibacy.  Shakers  do  not  marry,  and  many  of  the  people 


NEW   ENGLAND — CONTINUED.  5f 

of  New  Lebanon  also  seem  to  prefer  single  blessedness.  I  do 
not  know  of  a  place  with  as  large  a  proportion  of  old  bache 
lors  and  old  maids.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  a  brother  and 
sister  unmarried,  and  past  the  middle  life,  keeping  up  the  home 
stead  long  after  the  old  folks  are  dead.  Samuel  J.  Tilden,  who 
in  his  time  was  America's  most  prominent  bachelor,  came  from 
New  Lebanon.  He  now  lies  buried  on  a  hill  overlooking  the 
town  of  his  birth. 
3* 


58  THE   TKAMP    AT 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN    NEW    ORLEANS. 

THE  SNUFF  -  DRUMMER. — A  MANUFACTURER  WHO  WAS  "AGIN  THE 
GOVERNMENT." — CONDITION  OF  LABORERS  IN  NEW  ORLEANS. — A 
GLIMPSE  OF  ITALY  AND  THE  TEMPLE  OF  VESTA.  —  WHY  GIRLS 
DISLIKE  DOMESTIC  SERVICE. — MISERABLE  PAY  AND  CONDITION 
OF  SEWING-WOMEN. — INFLUENCE  OF  THE  LOTTERY. — NO  MONEY 
FOR  BREAD,  BUT  ALWAYS  A  DOLLAR  FOR  THE  LOTTERY. 

FEW  points  of  interest  can  be  mentioned  regarding  the  con 
dition  of  labor  in  Philadelphia.  Rents  are  cheaper,  and  there 
is  not  so  much  rush  and  hurry  as  in  New  York  and  Brooklyn  ; 
generally  speaking,  however,  the  conditions  are  similar  to  those 
already  described  in  her  two  large  neighbors,  and  a  particular 
description  would  weary  the  reader  as  much  as  the  six  weeks' 
trudging  through  rain  and  snow,  visiting  factories,  wearied  me. 

After  six  weeks  of  hard  work  and  disagreeable  weather,  I 
finished  the  investigation  in  Philadelphia,  and  transferred  the 
scene  of  my  labors  to  a  warmer  clime.  I  started  for  New  Or 
leans.  One  who  has  travelled  on  European  railways  will  be 
struck,  on  taking  a  long  journey  on  an  American  road,  with 
the  apparent  utter  lack  of  regard  for  human  life  in  America. 
Wherever  a  wagon-road  crosses  a  railroad  in  Europe  there  is  a 
guard,  who  will  permit  none  to  pass  if  a  train  is  near  or  due. 
I  have  seen  these  station-guards  at  little  cross-roads  in  south 
ern  Russia  hundreds  of  miles  from  any  city.  Whenever  the 
train  approached  they  closed  the  gates  and  stood  at  present 
arms  until  the  last  car  had  passed.  In  Heidelberg  one  morn 
ing  I  wanted  a  glass  of  water.  There  was  a  fountain  on  the 
platform  on  the  other  side  of  the  depot.  No  train  was  near, 
so  I  started  across  the  track  to  get  my  glass  of  water.  A 
gendarme  came  running  after  me  and  grabbed  me  by  the 


IN   NEW   ORLEANS.  59 

shoulder  as  if  he  thought  I  meant  to  steal  the  fountain,  water 
and  all. 

"  Sind  sie  vcrruckt  ?" — (Are  you  crazy  ?) — he  said,  "  that  you 
run  such  risks.  Besides,  it  is  five  marks  fine  to  cross  the  track." 

He  showed  me  steps  that  led  down  to  a  tunnel,  through 
which  I  made  my  way,  and  up  steps  at  the  other  end,  to  the 
fountain,  where  I  got  a  glass  of  water ;  then  I  returned  to  the 
other  side  of  the  track  by  the  same  way  I  had  come,  down  the 
steps  and  through  the  tunnel.  All  this  may  be  over-caution  ; 
but  on  American  roads  they  are  over-careless.  Even  in  enter 
ing  large  cities  there  is  often  only  a  sign-board  telling  you  to 
look  out  for  the  train.  The  American  railroad  manager  thinks 
he  has  done  his  duty  when  he  has  had  such  signs  put  up  at 
the  crossings.  If  you  don't  "look  out,"  isn't  it  your  fault? 
So,  if  you  are  run  into  and  killed,  the  railroad  men  merely  sigh, 
and  wonder  why  people  will  be  so  careless.  An  acquaintance 
of  mine  has  been  confined  to  his  bed  for  fourteen  months,  the 
result  of  being  lifted  into  the  air  by  one  of  the  Iron  Mountain 
Railroad's  engines  on  the  corner  of  Fourth  and  Poplar  streets, 
St.  Louis.  My  acquaintance  was  riding  in  a  street-car,  dream 
ing  of  no  danger,  when  the  engine  turned  the  sharp  curve  and 
sent  horses,  street-car,  passengers,  and  all  into  the  air.  Such 
an  occurrence  is  an  impossibility  in  Germany  or  Russia,  where 
human  life  is  held  too  dear  to  be  sacrificed  except  in  battle. 

While  flying  over  the  bottom-lands  of  Louisiana,  I  over 
heard  the  conversation  of  two  men  in  the  seat  behind  me.  The 
one  a  sleek,  well-fed,  self-satisfied-looking  young  man,  had  a 
long  brown  beard,  which  he  stroked  with  great  pride  and  af 
fection.  His  companion  was  a  mild-mannered,  gray-haired  old 
gentleman  with  an  innocent  face.  Every  time  the  train  drew 
up  at  a  depot,  or  passed  through  or  in  sight  of  a  village,  the 
younger  of  these  two  men  made  disparaging  remarks  on  the 
general  appearance  of  things  and  people. 

"  Look  at  the  poverty,"  he  would  say  ;  "  look  at  the  squalor. 
What  an  indolent  way  the  people  have !" 

The  scene  was  not  particularly  prosperous  or  brilliant,  still 


60  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

I  did  not  see  any  squalor.  The  houses  were  small,  the  barns 
roughly  built,  but  were  good  enough  for  that  mild  climate. 

"  They  ought  to  prosper  down  here,"  said  the  mild-eyed  old 
gentleman.  "  The  soil  is  rich,  the  climate  genial ;  what's  the 
matter — laziness  ?" 

"  Snuff's  the  matter,"  said  the  younger  man,  with  a  self-com 
placent  smirk. 

"Snuff?"  repeated  the  mild-eyed  old  man. 

"  Yes ;  they've  got  the  climate,  and  they've  got  the  soil.  It's 
all  the  women's  fault  they  are  kept  so  poor." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  The  women  spend  all  their  money  on  snuff :  they  eat  snuff 
from  morning  until  night.  That's  what  makes  'em  so  lazy  and 
shiftless  and  sallow." 

The  astonishment  of  the  innocent-eyed  old  gentleman  was  a 
triumph  enjoyed  by  the  other.  The  train  drew  up  at  a  station 
soon  after,  and  I  took  the  seat  the  old  gentleman  vacated,  and 
fell  into  conversation  with  the  complacent  young  man  with  the 
long  brown  beard.  It  was  not  long  before  he  told  me  that  he 
"  hailed  "  from  Wisconsin,  and  that  his  mission  was  to  travel 
and  "  minister  to  the  depraved  taste  of  Southern  women ;"  in 
other  words,  he  was  a  snuff-drummer. 

"  I  travel  all  over  the  South  and  sell  the  merchants  snuff. 
They  sell  it  to  the  women,  and  the  women  eat  it." 

"  Do  you  sell  much  in  the  South  ?" 

"Much?  I  should  smile!"  answered  the  snuff -drummer, 
with  an  exultant  grin.  "I  sell  millions  of  dollars'  worth  a 
year." 

"  Millions !"  I  gasped,  aghast  at  the  awful  picture  conjured 
up  of  my  countrywomen  gobbling  so  many  tons  and  tons  of 
the  despicable  weed. 

"  Southern  women  buy  every  year  four  million  dollars'  worth 
of  snuff." 

"  And  Northern  women  ?" 

"Oh,  Northern  women  seldom  use  it;  although  the  factory 
women  of  New  England  eat  a  good  deal.  There  is  a  snuff  fac- 


IN   NEW    ORLEANS.  61 

tory  at  Byfield,  Massachusetts.  The  factory  women  eat  twelve 
tons  of  snuff  a  year.  They  do  not  use  sticks  in  snuffing,  as  do 
the  Southern  women ;  they  use  little  wads  of  cotton,  which 
they  sop  in  the  snuff-box  and  cram  in  their  jaws." 

The  snuff-drummer,  who  had  just  left  Memphis,  Tennessee* 
said  that  city  was  not  in  good  favor  with  drummers. 

"Why  not?" 

"Memphis  puts  a  tax  on  drummers;  consequently  drummers 
ain't  fond  of  Memphis." 

Of  course  I  deeply  sympathized  with  the  wrongs  of  the  no 
ble  snuff-drummer  class.  I  told  that  young  man  that  Memphis 
acted  badly  when  she  put  a  tax  on  snuff-drummers.  A  snuff- 
drummer  who  came  all  the  way  from  Wisconsin  to  "  minister 
to  the  depraved  taste  of  Southern  women"  ought  to  be  received 
by  a  deputation  of  society  belles,  the  prettiest  of  whom  ought 
to  carry  his  sack  containing  snuff  samples.  At  night  they 
ought  to  serenade  him,  so  that  he  might  sleep  sweetly  after 
drumming  during  the  day  to  minister  to  their  depraved  taste. 

The  snuff-drummer  gazed  at  me  reflectively  a  moment,  then 
picked  up  his  satchel  containing  snuff  samples  and  went  over 
and  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  car  near  the  water-tank. 

In  New  Orleans  a  new  difficulty  altogether  was  encountered. 
A  number  of  the  manufacturers  and  employers  were  like  the 
proverbial  Irishman,  "  agin  the  Government."  One  shoe  man 
ufacturer  declared  no  Government  agent  should  go  through  his 
factory.  I  explained  that,  although  an  agent  of  the  General 
Government  at  Washington,  it  was  a  State  law  that  required 
factories  to  open  their  doors  for  inspection.  This  altered  mat 
ters.  He  did  not  want  any  "  big  nation  agents  "  about,  but  if 
the  State  of  Louisiana  wanted  a  man  to  go  through  his  place, 
all  right.  He  respected  the  State,  and  would  obey  its  laws.  I 
was  surprised  and  also  a  little  embarrassed,  the  next  day,  to 
find  that  the  manufacturer  with  whom  I  had  had  the  wordy 
war,  and  who  was  compelled  to  admit  me  into  his  place,  was 
the  very  person  to  whom  I  had  a  letter  of  introduction,  and 
with  whom  I  had  an  engagement  to  dine. 


62  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

In  New  Orleans  I  got  a  glimpse  of  Italian  life.  My  room  in 
the  top  of  a  high  building  had  a  window  overlooking  the  roof 
of  the  adjoining  house.  The  janitor  of  this  latter  building  was 
an  Italian.  On  Sundays  he  sat  with  his  family  on  the  roof 
basking  in  the  sun,  while  his  wife  combed  his  head.  In  Rome 
a  crowd  of  peasants  may  be  seen  any  fine  morning  sitting  on 
the  steps  of  the  ancient  Temple  of  Vesta,  the  mothers  combing 
the  heads  of  their  children.  In  the  Uffizi  Gallery  at  Florence 
is  a  painting  by  one  of  the  old  masters,  entitled  "Venus  Comb 
ing  the  Head  of  Cupid."  I  always  thought  that  old  master 
must  have  done  a  good  deal  of  loafing  around  the  Temple  of 
Vesta.  His  Venus  is  a  speaking  likeness  of  the  mothers,  and 
his  Cupid  of  the  type  of  children  one  sees  on  the  steps  of  the 
ancient  Temple  of  Vesta. 

The  glimpses  I  got  of  the  Italian  janitor  having  his  head 
combed  on  Sunday  mornings  took  me  back  in  memory  to  the 
Temple  of  Vesta,  and  to  the  old  master  in  the  Uffizi  Gallery 
at  Florence. 

The  condition  and  general  appearance  of  the  working-classes 
in  New  Orleans  reminds  one  of  the  working-classes  in  France 
and  Italy.  Indeed,  it  would  not  be  too  much  to  say  that  there 
are  more  points  of  resemblance  between  New  Orleans  and 
French  and  Italian  cities  than  between  New  Orleans  and  other 
American  places.  French  and  Italian  families  live  on  seventy 
cents  and  less  a  day.  Hundreds  of  New  Orleans  laborers  sup 
port  families  on  the  same  sum.  French  mechanics  wear  blouses ; 
so  do  many  New  Orleans  mechanics.  Both  speak  French.  The 
investigator  rambling  through  the  shops  and  factories  of  dilapi 
dated,  quaint  New  Orleans  can  easily  forget  America,  and  im 
agine  himself  on  the  shores  of  the  distant  Mediterranean. 

This  similarity  is  easily  explained.  The  French  and  Spanish 
originally  settled  the  country,  and  from  those  Latin  peoples 
were  received  the  first  characteristics  which  an  uninnovating 
spirit  and  a  warm  climate  have  tended  to  preserve,  with  com 
paratively  little  change,  down  to  the  present  day.  Stop  a  man 
in  New  York  or  St.  Louis  to  inquire  where  the  Post-office  or 


IN   NEW   ORLEANS.  63 

Court-house  is,  and  if  he  notices  you  at  all  it  will  be  merely  to 
jerk  his  thumb  towards  a  policeman  and  tell  you  to  ask  him. 
Stop  a  man  for  the  same  purpose  in  New  Orleans,  and  he  will 
tell  you  all  he  knows  and  more  too.  I  once  lost  my  way  in  the 
narrow  streets  of  the  French  Quarter,  and,  as  there  were  no  pass 
ers-by,  stepped  into  a  shoemaker's  shop  to  obtain  directions. 

"  You  wish  to  go  to  Washington  Square  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  come ;  I  will  show  you." 

He  laid  his  tools  and  shoes  down,  and  we  started  off  together. 
The  few  people  we  met  on  the  quiet,  almost  deserted  street  did 
not  seem  to  think  there  was  anything  odd  in  the  shoemaker's 
walking  along  with  me,  his  sleeves  still  rolled  up,  his  leather 
apron  tied  around  his  waist,  his  workman's  cap  on  his  head. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  put  you  to  this  trouble,"  I  apologized. 
"  If  you  will  tell  me  the  way  I  can  find  it." 

"  Oh,  it's  no  trouble,"  returned  the  shoemaker,  jovially.  "  Be 
sides,  you  couldn't  go  by  yourself.  The  streets  are  very  nar 
row  and  very  crooked." 

The  rest  of  the  distance — about  a  block  and  a  half — we 
talked  politics,  a  subject  in  which  the  shoemaker  was  well 
versed.  Then  we  came  in  sight  of  the  square,  and  my  guide, 
with  a  bow  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  dancing-master, 
touched  his  cap  and  returned  leisurely  to  his  shop.  This  little 
incident,  which  is  characteristic,  not  exceptional,  shows  the 
dolcefar  niente  spirit  that  pervades  the  people.  Thousands  of 
years  lie  behind  them,  thousands  of  years  lie  before  them. 
Why  rush  ?  Why  hurry  ?  Do  we  not  go  to  our  graves  fast 
enough  without  hurrying?  So  they  do  not  rush  or  hurry. 
People  move  about  slowly,  and  seem  to  care  more  for  the 
social  side  of  life,  and  to  derive  more  enjoyment  therefrom,  in 
New  Orleans  than  in  any  large  city  in  the  United  States. 

Within  the  last  five  years  this  easy-going  gait  has  been  dis 
turbed  to  some  extent,  and  it  is  likely  to  be  more  and  more 
disturbed  in  the  near  future.  Already  there  are  several  facto 
ries,  employing  each  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hun- 


64  THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

dred  hands.  There  are  a  dozen  or  so  employing  smaller  num 
bers.  In  all  these  places  it  would  be  a  serious  mistake  to 
suppose  anything  is  left  of  the  dolce  far  niente  business.  On 
the  contrary,  in  these  factories,  owned  or  operated  for  the  most 
part  by  Northern  men,  the  hours  are  even  longer,  the  work 
harder,  than  in  the  East  and  North. 

Excluding  domestic  service,  three-fourths  of  the  women  in 
New  Orleans  who  earn  their  livelihood  earn  it  by  the  needle. 
Of  these  three-fourths,  only  a  small  portion  work  in  factories. 
The  majority  sew  at  home,  live  in  low,  mean  surroundings,  on 
bad  and  insufficient  food ;  they  work  from  six  in  the  morning 
until  late  at  night  to  make  two  or  two  and  a  half  dollars  a  week. 
It  is  the  boast  of  their  employers  that  they  manufacture  cheap 
er  than  the  Eastern  manufacturers;  that  they  are  underselling 
Eastern  men  in  their  own  markets.  This  is  credible.  Women 
in  New  Orleans  make  jean  "  pants "  for  fifty-five  cents  a 
dozen — less  than  five  cents  a  pair.  The  employer  sells  the 
same  "  pants  "  for  from  a  dollar  to  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  pair — 
twice  as  much  for  one  pair  as  he  pays  the  sewing-women  for 
making  a  dozen  pairs.  Mr.  Edward  Atkinson  may  involve  him 
self  in  a  maze  of  statistics,  and  succeed  in  proving  to  his  own 
satisfaction  that  labor  receives  a  larger  return  than  capital.  I 
fear,  however,  he  will  find  it  difficult  to  convince  the  New  Or 
leans  sewing-women  that  they  receive  a  just  proportion  of 
labor's  products.  On  the  contrary,  the  sewing-women  know 
very  well  that  there  is  an  unjust  distribution,  and  they  know 
the  injustice  does  not  lie  at  their  door.  The  sewing-woman 
gives  three  times  as  much  as  she  receives.  Cobden  said, 
"  When  two  employers  are  after  one  workman,  wages  rise ; 
when  two  workmen  are  after  one  employer,  wages  fall."  This 
is  a  homely  way  of  expressing  the  law  of  supply  and  demand. 
In  New  Orleans  it  is  not  two  but  a  dozen  seamstresses  that 
apply  to  one  employer,  hence  the  extreme  lowness  of  their 
wages.  In  the  half-hour  that  I  was  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  manufacturer,  as  many  as  four  women  came  pleading  for 
work.  To  each  was  given  the  same  reply — no  more  sewing 


IX   NEW    ORLEANS.  65 

to  give  out.     They  looked  in  vain  for  a  chance  to  make  jean 
"  pants"  even  at  the  pittance  of  fifty-five  cents  a  dozen. 

Whole  streets  are  given  up  to  the  makers  of  cheap  clothing. 
Walk  through  the  Third  District,  and  behind  the  closed  shutters 
of  nearly  every  house  will  be  heard  the  clatter  of  a  sewing- 
machine.  On  the  table  of  ttye  machine  is  a  loaf  of  bread  from 
which  the  operator  from  time  to  time  takes  a  bite,  and  stays  the 
hunger  that  is  seldom  or  never  fully  satisfied.  In  many  cases 
that  fell  under  my  notice  this  loaf  of  bread  constituted  the  sole 
menu ;  with  almost  all  was  it  the  principal  item,  being  helped 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  day  by  the  one  so-called  square  meal 
of  coffee,  potatoes,  and  salt  pork  or  other  meat.  The  figures 
furnished  by  one  family,  typical  of  the  class,  will  convey  a  bet 
ter  idea  of  their  condition  than  would  pages  of  description. 

Table  of  New  Orleans  Seamstress  and  family. 

Condition. — Family  of  six:  parents,  and  four  children  from  one  to  nine 
years  old.  Occupy  a  board  shanty  overlooking  a  canal.  In  summer  the 
canal  dries  up,  mud  and  stench  very  disagreeable.  The  rooms  are  bare, 
wretchedly  furnished ;  a  bedstead,  a  few  chairs,  and  a  rough  kitchen  table. 
The  father  is  a  cigar-maker.  When  at  work,  he  earns  $6  to  $9  a  week, 
but  has  been  idle  for  some  time.  The  mother  operates  a  sewing-machine, 
the  father  assists  in  sewing  buttons,  making  button-holes,  etc.  Earnings 
of  the  two,  $3  a  week. 

Cost  of  Living  : 

Bread per  day 18  cents. 

Sugar,  milk,  and  coffee. . .      "       10     " 

Meat  and  potatoes "       12      u 

Total  cost  of  food  per  day 40  cents ;  per  week $2  80 

Rent  of  shanty  per  week $1  00 

Other  items,  as  fuel,  light,  clothing,  lottery  tickets,  etc., 
bring  the  total  up  to  five  dollars  a  week.  When  the  husband 
is  earning  wages,  the  extra  income  is  spent  in  paying  debts, 
and  in  buying  extra  food  supplies  and  extra  lottery  tickets. 
The  expense  for  fuel  and  clothing  is  very  small. 

The  old-fashioned  Southern,  or  perhaps,  in  speaking  of  New 
Orleans,  it  is  best  to  say  Creole,  idea  of  woman's  "sphere"  has 


66  THE   TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

operated  to  confine  women  to  the  needle.  Even  yet  that  nar 
row  idea  governs  women,  and  limits  the  number  of  avenues  of 
work,  and  narrows  those  few  that  are  open  to  them. 

"Girls  working  for  me?"  said  a  Creole  shoe  manufacturer, 
with  a  virtuously  offended  air.  "  Well,  I  should  think  not. 
Thank  God,  it  has  not  come  to  that  yet." 

"But  the  girls  must  live  ;  why  not  by  making  shoes?" 

"  And  work  in  the  same  room,  at  the  same  benches  with 
men  ?  Impossible !" 

Nevertheless,  it  is  possible.  Men  who  talked  like  the  Creole 
shoe  manufacturer  two  years  ago  now  employ  women  by  the 
dozen.  Were  they  to  persist  in  the  old  idea,  they  would  have 
to  give  way  to  others  who  do  not  believe  that  woman's  "sphere" 
lies  exclusively  in  the  nursery  and  the  kitchen,  or  that  her  work 
is  confined  to  the  needle  and  the  wash-tub. 

Why  is  it  that  the  women  of  New  Orleans  dwell  in  shanties, 
and  sew  until  late  at  night  to  earn  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents 
a  week,  when  they  can  make  twice  that  amount,  and  get  good 
board  and  lodging  besides,  by  hiring  out  as  cooks  or  house- 
servants  ?  The  explanation  lies  in  the  word  "  servant." 

"Do  you  think  I'd  be  any  stuck-up  woman's  servant?"  said 
a  "  wash-lady,"  which  means  a  girl  who  works  in  a  laundry  for 
three  dollars  a  week.  It  was  Sunday,  and  as  she  walked  to 
church  dressed  neatly  and  well,  she  felt  as  fine  as  the  finest. 

"If  I  were  a  servant  I  shouldn't  be  on  the  way  to  church. 
I  would  be  answering  somebody  else's  door-bell,  or  eating  in 
the  kitchen." 

To  this  Sunday  work,  and  still  more  to  the  wide  line  that 
is  drawn  between  mistress  and  maid,  is  due  the  repugnance  felt 
against  domestic  service.  In  some  New  England  towns  that  I 
have  observed,  as  Pittsfield  (Massachusetts),  Portland  (Maine), 
and  other  smaller  places,  the  line  is  not  so  sharply  defined.  In 
some  towns  I  have  found  myself  seated  at  table  by  the  side  of 
the  cook,  who,  having  finished  her  culinary  duties,  had  rolled 
down  her  sleeves  and  taken  a  place  alongside  the  family. 
There  is  little  of  this  spirit  left  in  the  cities,  and  it  is  perhaps 


IN   NEW    ORLEANS.  67 

growing  less  in  the  country  and  the  town — a  fact  to  be  de 
plored,  as  it  will  materially  increase  the  difficulty  of  getting 
good  house-servants. 

Nothing  of  this  kind  ever  existed  in  New  Orleans.  Before 
the  war  servants  were  bought.  They  cannot  be  bought  now, 
and  unless  something  be  done 'to  make  domestic  service  prefer 
able  to  being  "  wash  "  ladies  and  other  sorts  of  "  ladies"  who 
work  their  fingers  to  the  bone  and  half  starve,  the  mistresses 
of  American  households  will  ultimately  be  obliged  to  do  their 
own  cooking  and  house-work.  Any  number  of  women  may 
be  seen  waiting  to  be  employed  in  a  factory  eleven  hours  a 
day  on  wages  of  four  dollars  a  week  and  less,  but  the  applicant 
for  a  good  house-girl  or  cook  often  goes  a  long  time  before 
the  demand  is  supplied.  The  fact  is,  few  working-men's  wives 
and  daughters  know  how  to  cook,  and  if  they  did  know  they 
would  still  prefer  factory  or  shop  life,  which,  if  more  laborious 
and  less  remunerative,  is  yet,  in  their  opinion,  a  more  honorable 
and  independent  occupation.  Rather  than  be  "  servants,"  girls 
prefer  to  stand  on  their  feet  from  seven  in  the  morning  until 
ten  or  eleven  at  night. 

Sales-girls  are  required  to  be  dressed  neatly.  Seamstresses 
work  as  hard  as  sales-girls,  but  they  have  this  advantage,  they 
are  not  compelled  to  spend  so  much  on  dress.  In  garrets  in 
New  York  and  Brooklyn  I  have  come  across  women  in  calico 
gowns  that  did  not  cost  above  thirty  cents.  Their  rent  cost 
from  five  to  eight  dollars  a  month.  The  rest  of  their  meagre 
earnings,  after  paying  for  the  thirty-cent  gowns  and  the  rent, 
went  to  buy  food  to  sustain  the  human  machine,  that  it  might 
keep  on  with  its  daily  grind  of  toil.  Did  seamstresses  have  to 
spend  as  much  for  dress  as  sales-women,  statistics  would  doubt 
less  show  a  much  larger  proportion  of  former  seamstresses 
among  fallen  women  than  is  now  actually  the  fact.  Despite 
their  miserable  pay,  the  number  of  sewing-women  who  go  wrong 
is  less,  proportionately,  than  in  almost  any  other  occupation.* 

*  Only  seven  and  a  half  per  cent,  of  degraded  women  were  ever  engaged 
in  sewing  of  any  kind  for  a  living.  This  percentage  is  obtained  from  an 


68 


THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


A   POOR   SEAMSTRESS   AT    WORK. 

The  reason  that  women  prefer  such  hard  work  to  the  less 
arduous  occupation  of  domestic  service  is,  as  just  remarked, 
almost  entirely  because  of  the  badge  of  inferiority  they  think 
attached  to  the  latter.  European  workmen  and  women  have 
less  of  this  sort  of  pride.  In  Europe  the  social  line  is  more 
rigid  and  fixed ;  the  poor  never  dream  of  passing  it.  The 
German  shopkeeper  stands  no  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the 
titled  loafer  than  does  his  clerk  or  house-servant.  Both  work, 
and  work  is  degradation  in  the  eyes  of  a  legalized  aristocracy. 
The  effect  of  this  is,  the  German  shopkeeper  does  not  keep  his 
clerks  and  house-servants  at  so  great  a  distance  as  the  American 
shopkeeper  keeps  his.  In  Germany  everybody  looks  down 

investigation  of  over  five  thousand  fallen  women  in  the  cities  of  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Cleveland,  Cincinnati,  St.  Louis,  Chicago,  Louisville,  New  Or 
leans,  Denver,  and  San  Francisco.  By  far  the  larger  per  cent,  graduate 
into  their  degraded  calling  direct  from  home  or  from  domestic  service. 


IN    NEW    ORLEANS.  69 

upon  the  baucr  (peasant-class) ;  but  with  that  exception,  there 
are  less  distinctions  among  the  middle  classes  than  is  the  case 
with  us.  An  American  shopkeeper  lives  in  a  fine  house.  lie 
walks  about  his  "Emporium  of  Fashion"  a  little  czar.  If  his 
wife  or  daughter  is  ever  seen  there,  it  is  when  she  drives  up 
in  her  carriage  to  get  a  silk  dress  or  a  check  from  papa.  In 
France  and  Germany  the  same  class  of  shopmen  live  in  rooms 
over  their  shops.  Even  bankers  live  over  their  banks.  The 
shopman's  wife,  in  all  probability,  helps  him  keep  his  books 
and  sell  his  goods.  At  night,  when  the  house  has  been  put  to 
rights,  Gretchen,  the  house-maid,  will  come  into  the  family  sit 
ting-room  and  listen  to  her  employer  read  the  papers  or  chat  of 
the  day's  events.  She  is  not  kept  back  in  her  room  in  the 
attic,  or  thrown  entirely  on  her  own  resources  for  amusement. 
Hence  the  Germans  and  French  do  not  experience  that  difficulty 
in  securing  capable  domestic  help  that  American  housewives 
meet  with.  They  bring  their  customs  more  or  less  to  this 
country,  and  in  American  cities  the  first  to  get  good  house- 
servants  and  the  last  to  lose  them  are  not  American  but  Ger 
man  or  French  families. 

The  noted  Louisiana  Lottery  has  no  little  bearing  on  the 
labor  question  in  New  Orleans.  The  seamstresses  spoken  of 
as  working  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  eleven  at  night 
may  have  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper  only  a  five-cent  loaf 
of  bread,  but  they  are  apt  to  have  lottery  tickets  in  the  pockets 
of  their  threadbare  dresses,  or  stowed  away  behind  a  cracked 
mirror  or  picture-frame.  A  family  on  whom  1  called  one 
morning  lived  in  abject  poverty.  The  house  contained  only 
two  rooms  and  a  closet,  yet  was  the  habitation  of  nine  human 
beings,  or  had  been  until  recently — the  mother  had  just  buried 
the  youngest  of  her  eight  children.  She  was  direct  from  the 
cemetery,  and  doubtless  had  not  enough  food  in  the  cupboard 
to  furnish  a  meal  to  her  living  children,  yet  at  the  moment 
of  my  call  she  was  surrounded  by  them,  eagerly  scanning  the 
lottery  bulletin  that  was  just  out  announcing  the  numbers  of 
winning  tickets.  Her  own  number  was  apparently  not  on  the 


70  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

list,  for  she  cast  the  sheet  aside  with  a  disappointed  air,  and 
turned  to  answer  ray  questions  and  resume  her  sewing. 

Tickets,  or  parts  of  tickets,  for  the  daily  drawing  can  be 
bought  for  twenty-five  cents.  They  are  hung  up  on  strings 
in  the  windows  of  nearly  every  corner  grocery.  The  sewing- 
woman  tramps  from  her  dingy  shanty  in  the  Third  District  to 
the  factory,  three  miles  distant,  a  mountain  of  "pants"  and 
coats  on  her  back.  She  is  paid  two  dollars  or  two  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  for  her  week's  work,  and  walks  back  to  save  car-fare. 
But  on  the  way  the  lottery  tickets  in  the  windows  stare  her  in 
the  face.  Perhaps  she  passes  three  or  four  windows  and  does 
not  stop ;  but  there  are  so  many  on  her  long  walk,  what  can 
she  do?  By  each  lot  of  tickets  is  a  poster  telling  in  big  type 
of  the  wonderful  fortune  .won,  perhaps,  by  some  neighbor  or 
acquaintance.  "Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast." 
Why  cannot  she  draw  a  fortune  too  ?  The  temptation  is  too 
great.  A  ticket  is  bought,  and  until  the  result  of  the  drawing 
is  announced  that  poor  woman  lives  almost  literally  on  hope. 
Sometimes  she  will  go  herself  to  the  hall  of  the  lottery  com 
pany  on  St.  Charles  Street,  and  watch  the  blindfolded  boy  as 
he  takes  out  the  tickets  from  the  wheel.  How  her  heart  beats  ! 

"If  he  only  draws  my  number!  Ah,  that  was  near  it.  It 
is  getting  nearer;  he  may  draw  mine  next;"  and  she  unfolds 
her  crumpled  ticket  and  reads  again  and  again  the  number 
printed  thereon. 

Servant-girls  do  not  think  it  wrong  to  slightly  curtail  their 
employer's  food  supply,  that  they  may  have  a  chance  in  the 
wheel  of  fortune.  Those  women  whom  one  sees  in  the  lottery 
building  on  St.  Charles  Street,  with  market-baskets  on  their 
arms,  waiting  for  the  blindfolded  boy  to  draw  them  a  prize, 
may  be  depended  upon  to  show  a  shortage  in  their  market 
account  by  the  price  of  at  least  one  lottery  ticket. 

Almost  on  a  par  with  the  lottery  are  the  numerous  "  benefit" 
societies  that  abound  in  the  Crescent  City.  Of  the  several  hun 
dred  families  whom  I  personally  visited,  nearly  two-thirds  (sixty 
per  cent.)  had  members  of  the  family  belonging  to  one,  and 


IN   NEW    ORLEANS.  71 

sometimes  to  as  many  as  four  or  five  societies.  The  dues  to 
one  society  amount  to  seven  dollars  a  year.  One  old  lady,  a 
stitcher  of  shoe -uppers,  was  a  member  of  four  societies,  and 
paid  yearly  dues  amounting  to  twenty-eight  dollars — nearly  a 
fourth  of  her  earnings.  There  was  no  return  for  this  outlay 
that  she  had  been  making  for  years  except  in  case  of  illness. 
The  old  lady,  I  verily  believe,  would  have  welcomed  some  ail 
ment  that  would  have  enabled  her  to  recoup  some  of  the  money 
she  had  spent  on  benefit  societies.  In  contrast  to  this  excep 
tional  liking  for  benefit  societies  is  a  marked  weakness  of  the 
trades-union  idea.  Only  a  small  per  cent,  of  New  Orleans  work 
ing-men  are  members  of  unions.  Those  who  are  members  are 
not  as  enthusiastic  as  union  men  in  other  cities. 

"  The  negroes  and  Cubans  crowd  us  out,"  said  a  cigar-maker. 
"  They  work  fur  anything  they  can  get,  so  of  course  the  unions 
can't  keep  up  wages.  Cigar-makers  make  here  at  least  two 
dollars  a  thousand  less  than  in  Northern  cities." 

The  cigar-maker  who  said  this  was  part  negro  himself.  His 
father  was  white,  his  mother  half  African.  The  cigar-maker 
was  of  a  dark,  swarthy  hue.  He  had  been  educated  by  his  fa 
ther  in  Paris,  and  up  to  the  war  played  the  role  of  gentleman. 
After  the  war,  being  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  he  learned 
cigar-making — not,  however,  with  any  great  enthusiasm.  His 
former  lazy  life  had  spoiled  him.  At  the  time  of  my  visit  he 
was  lounging  around  his  hovel,  smoking  a  bad  pipe,  and  occa 
sionally  helping  his  wife  sew  buttons  on  jean  "pants."  I  found 
not  a  few  slightly  colored  husbands  who  thus  attempted,  even 
in  the  face  of  dire  poverty,  to  play  the  gentleman.  It  puzzled 
me  to  understand  how  they  kept  soul  and  body  together. 

This  cigar-maker,  though  earning  six  or  seven  dollars  a  week 
when  at  work,  had  been  idle  three  months,  so  that  the  actual 
income  of  the  family  was  what  the  wife  earned — two  dollars 
and  a  half  a  week.  One  dollar  of  this  went  for  the  two  wretch 
ed  rooms  they  called  home.  On  the  remaining  dollar  and  a 
half  husband,  wife,  and  three  siryjiLaJnfchaifeJ^d  to  clothe  and 
feed  themselves. 


72  THE    TRAMP   AT    HOME. 

Statistics  show  that  the  number  of  remunerative  occupations 
open  to  women  have  a  decided  bearing  on  their  morality.  In 
Birmingham,  England,  where  women  are  employed  to  a  great 
extent,  there  is  one  degraded  woman  to  every  six  hundred  of 
population ;  in  Chicago  and  Louisville  there  is  one  degraded 
woman  to  every  three  hundred.  The  natural  inference  would 
be  that  a  class  of  female  wage-earners  so  poorly  paid  as  are 
the  seamstresses  of  New  Orleans  would  largely  recruit  the  ranks 
of  fallen  women  ;  but  inquiry  shows  that  of  the  entire  number 
of  fallen  women  in  New  Orleans  only  seven  and  a  half  per  cent, 
were  formerly  seamstresses.  Bear  in  mind  that  sewing-women 
are  the  poorest  paid  of  any  laboring  class,  and  that  they  out 
number  the  women  engaged  in  all  other  pursuits,  domestic 
service  excepted,*  and  the  fact  certainly  speaks  well  for  the 
virtue  and  industry  of  poor  sewing-women.  I  came  across  an 
unmarried  seamstress,  the  mother  of  two  children,  who  eked 
out  a  bare  support  for  herself  ami  for  them  by  giving  piano 
lessons  to  a  class  for  ten  dollars  a  month.  She  was  intelligent, 
modest  in  manners,  and  hard-working.  Such  women  do  not 
by  any  means  forfeit  their  own  or  their  neighbors'  respect. 
Cases  of  this  kind  are  often  met  with,  but,  as  stated,  the  per 
centage  of  those  who  abandon  all  shame  and  become  degraded 
women  is  astonishingly  small. 

The  Spanish  Fort  and  the  West  End  are  two  very  pleasant 
resorts  on  Lake  Pontchartrain,  accessible  from  the  city  by  a 
narrow-gauge  railway.  The  cost  of  the  round  trip  is  only  fif 
teen  cents,  but  even  this  small  sum  is  beyond  the  reach  of  all 
but  the  better  and  more  well-to-do  class  of  workmen.  The 
great  majority  live  in  shanties  and  courts,  and  spend  their  holi 
days,  not  on  the  cool  shores  of  the  lake,  so  near,  yet  so  far,  be 
cause  separated  by  a  fifteen-cent  gulf,  but  on  the  grass  beneath 
the  shade  of  the  trees  that  are  planted  in  the  middle  of  New 
Orleans's  magnificently  wide  streets  and  avenues. 

*  See  United  States  Census  for  1880. 


AMONG   SOUTHERN    FARMERS.  73 


CHAPTER  VI. 
AMONG    SOUTHERN   FARMERS. 

AN  ANCIENT  ACADEMY. — TUSCULUM,  NAMESAKE  OF  CICERO'S  VILLA. 
— LIVING  ON  TWENTY  CENTS  A  DAY.  —  INDEPENDENCE  OF  THE 
MOUNTAIN  FARMERS. — HOW  COTTON  IS  RAISED  ON  SHARES. — 
SKETCHES  OF  FARM  LIFE  IN  EAST  TENNESSEE. — A  RELIGIOUS 
MEETING  WHERE  THE  WOMEN  WASHED  THE  MEN'S  FEET,  AND 
THE  MEN  SWAPPED  HORSES. 

AFTER  a  few  weeks  in  and  around  Birmingham,  Alabama, 
and  Chattanooga,  Tennessee,  studying  the  condition  of  South 
ern  iron-workers,  I  prepared  to  go  among  the  Southern  farm 
ers,  and  with  that  view  made  my  headquarters  at  a  little  village 
called  Tusculum,  in  East  Tennessee.  In  selecting  that  name 
sake  of  the  great  Cicero's  villa,  I  was  determined  by  a  circular 
descriptive  of  the  fine  scenery  and  the  splendid  library  of  the 
Tusculum  College,  the  oldest  seat  of  learning  in  the  State  of 
Tennessee.  The  scenery  was  all  there,  but  the  splendid  library 
was  a  splendid  sham.  True,  there  were  thousands  of  dusty, 
moth-eaten  school-books,  thousands  of  old  theological  tomes ; 
volumes  and  volumes,  several  centuries  old,  of  learned  but  use 
less  disputes  over  points  which  not  even  the  most  bigoted  theo 
logians  of  the  present  day  deem  worth  discussion  ;  volumes  of 
ancient  sermons  that  had  been  brought  over  two  hundred  years 
ago  from  England — such  was  the  library  that  the  circular  called 
"  splendid  " — not  a  single  book  in  all  the  thousands  that  a  live 
man  could  read  with  either  profit  or  interest. 

'  The  mountain  boys  come  to  this  house  of  learning  in  wag 
ons,  bringing  bags  of  flour,  skillets,  coffee-pots,  hams,  po 
tatoes,  apples,  bed  and  bedding,  as  well  as  their  wearing  ap 
parel.  In  the  grove,  in  a  semicircle  around  the  old  brick  col 
lege,  are  log-cabins.  The  boys  bunk  together  in  these  cabins, 


74  THE  TKAMP  AT  HOME. 

take  turns  in  cooking-  their  meals  and  washing  their  clothes — 
thus  making  a  practical  study  of  economy  as  well  as  of  books. 
It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  see  the  students  when  wash-day 
came  around.  By  the  edge  of  the  clear-watered  creek  that 
flowed  near  by  was  a  huge  iron  kettle.  Under  this  a  fire  was 
made.  Then  the  boys  of  the  various  messes  got  down  to  their 
work  and  washed  away  with  a  will,  rinsing  the  clothes  in  the 
clear,  cold  water  of  the  creek.  By  this  close  economy  some  of 
the  students  reduce  their  expenditures  while  at  college  to  less 
than  a  hundred  dollars  a  year,  a  good  part  of  which  sum  they 
earn  in  vacation,  ploughing  in  the  fields  or  doing  other  farm- 
work. 

The  expenses  of  our  family  while  camping  near  Tusculum 
fell  short  of  thirty  cents  a  day  for  each  member.  Chickens 
cost  eight  or  ten  cents  apiece ;  eggs  cost  five  cents  a  dozen ; 
beef  seven  cents  a  pound;  buttermilk  was  fed  to  the  hogs; 
fruit  and  vegetables — corn,  potatoes,  turnips,  tomatoes,  melons 
- — were  to  be  had  almost  for  the  asking,  fuel  for  the  cutting 
and  hauling.  These  are  interesting  figures,  but  to  the  Penn 
sylvania  iron  manufacturer  they  are  not  pleasant,  since  the 
Southern  workmen,  where  living  is  so  cheap,  can  afford  to 
work  for  less  wages  than  the  men  of  the  North,  where  large 
cities  create  large  demands  for  food  products,  thus  raising  the 
cost  of  living.  The  mill-owner  in  Chattanooga  and  Birming 
ham  pays  lower  wages  than  Northern  manufacturers,  but  work 
men  in  the  South  can  afford  to  accept  lower  wages,  because 
living  is  cheaper.  This  is  why  the  iron-men  of  the  North  and 
West  are  becoming  alarmed  at  Southern  competition.  Proba 
bly  we  shall  soon  hear  them  crying  for  a  protective  tariff 
against  "pauper"  Southern  labor. 

My  knowledge  of  cheap  living,  which  had  stood  me  in  such 
good  service  in  Europe,  was  put  in  practice  in  our  camp  at 
Tusculum.  In  the  morning  I  would  go  to  the  cornfield  and 
pluck  a  dozfcn  ears  of  corn  ;  we  boiled  this,  or,  when  the  corn 
was  matured,  ground  it  into  meal  and  converted  it  into  corn- 
bread  on  the  back  of  a  hoe.  Wheat  was  cheap.  We  pounded 


AMONG  SOUTHERN  FARMERS.  75 

a  pint  or  so  of  wheat  grains  with  two  smooth  bowlders  until 
the  kernels  cracked.  This,  well  boiled,  and  eaten  with  sugar 
and  cream,  that  cost  little  or  nothing,  made  a  breakfast  nutri 
tious  and  wholesome.  The  cost  for  our  family  of  five  could 
not  have  exceeded  twenty  cents. 

Investigation  showed  that  the  women  of  East  Tennessee  spin 
and  weave  their  own  and  their  husband's  and  children's  cloth 
ing,  also  their  blankets.  In  this  they  are  widely  unlike  the 
farmers  of  the  level  lands  of  the  Gulf  States.  The  mountain 
eers  of  East  Tennessee,  Virginia,  and  North  Carolina  are  al 
most  entirely  self -supporting,  purchasing  from  the  outside 
world  only  a  few  agricultural  implements,  and  occasionally 
small  quantities  of  coffee  and  tea.  They  raise  their  own  to 
bacco,  rice,  wheat,  cotton,  and  wool ;  spin  and  weave  their  own 
cloth  and  distil  their  own  whiskey ;  in  short,  they  are  quite  in 
dependent  of  the  outside  world.  It  must  be  something  more 
than  a  coincidence  that  this  characteristic  of  independence  is 
so  often  found  among  mountainous  people.  As  Buckle  has 
suggested,  man  is  influenced  by  climate  and  physical  geography. 

Before  the  days  of  steam,  mountains,  on  account  of  their 
rough,  rugged  nature,  were  difficult  of  access :  even  now,  with 
roads  climbing  such  giddy  heights  as  Marshall  Pass  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  the  homes  of  mountaineers  are  less  easily 
reached  than  the  homes  of  other  classes;  hence  the  marked 
degree  of  independence  noted  among  the  inhabitants  of  such 
countries  as  Switzerland  and  East  Tennessee.  Money  in  East 
Tennessee  has  not  the  same  value  it  has  in  other  parts  of  the 
country.  "What  little  commerce  exists  is  carried  on  mostly  by 
barter.  A  farm  hand  who  hires  out  to  the  owner  of  a  farm 
does  not  receive  his  board  and  so  much  money — fifteen  or 
eighteen  dollars  a  month — as  he  would  receive  on  "level  land" 
farms :  he  gets  his  board  and  an  order  on  the  nearest  store. 
The  farmer  pays  the  merchant  in  butter,  eggs,  or  other  farm 
produce,  which  the  merchant  ships  off  to  distant  markets. 
Should  the  hired  laborer  have  a  house  and  family  of  his  own, 
he  is  paid  in  bacon,  lard,  or  meal,  and  an  order  on  the  store. 


76  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

Farmers  and  planters  in  the  Gulf  States  will  often  be  found 
buying  from  Northern  merchants  clothing,  provisions,  and  even 
their  staple  "  hog  and  hominy."  The  cotton  plantations  are 
conducted  on  what  is  called  the  "share"  system.  The  land 
owner  furnishes  the  mules  and  implements,  and  the  hands  buy 
their  own  provisions.  A  white  man  overlooks  and  directs  the 
negroes,  who  agree,  in  the  first  place,  to  obey  the  manager  in 
every  particular  as  to  planting.  Were  this  not  done,  the  ne 
gro,  by  careless  planting,  might  cause  heavy  loss  to  his  land 
lord  as  well  as  to  himself.  The  cost  of  producing  a  pound  of 
cotton  on  good  land  can  be  reduced  to  five  cents.  The  negro 
share-workers  at  this  rate  make  a  neat  income. 

"  I  have  had  as  much  as  four  thousand  dollars  to  the  credit 
of  big  Henry  Bolton,"  said  a  commission-merchant.  "  He  is 
a  negro  who  can't  read  or  write,  but  knows  how  to  save.  He 
now  owns  a  farm  of  three  hundred  acres,  and  rents  it  out  like 
a  lord.  There  is  no  reason  why  negroes  shouldn't  make  money. 
In  the  picking  season  you  can't  punch  a  negro  man  on  a  planta 
tion  without  hearing  the  silver  rattle.  They  get  a  cent  a  pound, 
and  an  industrious  man  can  pick  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a 
day.  The  trouble  with  most  of  them  is,  they  are  unable  to 
save  money  or  to  use  it  judiciously.  Tobacco,  whiskey,  and 
*  craps '  (a  gambling  game)  are  their  weaknesses.  Some  make 
as  high  as  twenty  bales  a  year.  This  season,  Tom,  an  Arkan 
sas  negro,  cleared  four  hundred  dollars.  He  came  to  town,  got 
drunk,  played  craps,  and  came  into  my  office  last  week  to  get 
me  to  advance  him  money  enough  to  go  home  on." 

The  cabins  on  plantations  are  built  of  logs,  and  usually  con 
sist  of  two  rooms,  eighteen  by  sixteen  feet,  and  a  porch.  Such 
a  cabin  costs  four  hundred  dollars,  and  is  used  by  two  families. 
On  a  plantation  of  1750  acres  that  I  visited  there  were  seventy- 
four  such  cabins.  The  planter  furnishes  all  these  and  the  im 
plements  ;  the  negroes  have  only  to  buy  their  food  and  cloth 
ing.  At  the  end  of  the  year  the  crop  is  divided  into  two  equal 
parts.  It  is  only  by  keeping  a  sharp  lookout,  and  seeing  that 
the  negroes  do  not  idle  or  waste,  that  the  planter  makes  a  profit, 


AMONG    SOUTHERN    FARMERS.  77 

or  even  comes  out  without  loss.  It  is  seldom  one  finds  negro 
plantation-hands  intelligent  and  thrifty. 

The  hospitality  of  the  Southern  mountaineers  is  open  and 
boundless,  as  I  learned  from  personal  experience.  A  dozen 
travellers  may  stop  at  a  farmer's  cabin  and  stay  several  days, 
and  the  whole  twelve  would,  be  fed  and  cared  for  without 
charge.  Of  this  characteristic  I  became  acquainted  on  a  horse 
back  trip  into  the  interior  among  the  farmers  and  lumber-cut 
ters.  I  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  from  Tusculum, 
when  I  overtook  another  horseman  jogging  slowly  along  the 
road.  He  was  a  lean,  lank  fellow,  dressed  in  homespun  jeans,  his 
long  hair  hanging  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Mornin',  stranger,"  said  the  lank  man  as  I  rode  up. 

"  Good-morning,  sir." 

"  Fine  day,  fine  day,"  said  the  lank  man. 

"  Yes,  it  is." 

"  A  good  day,  too,  stranger.  It's  the  Lord's  Day,  you 
know." 

I  remembered  it  was  Sunday.  We  rode  on  together,  the 
lean,  lank  man  talking  more  or  less  on  religion.  Presently  he 
turned  and  said, 

"  Stranger,  you'd  better  'light,  an'  look  at  your  saddle." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?     Girth  loose  ?" 

I  leaned  over  and  felt  the  buckle  to  see  if  all  was  right. 
The  lean  man  looked  gravely  reproachful. 

"  I've  asked  you  to  git  down  an'  look  at  your  saddle,"  he  re 
peated.  "  If  you  don't  mean  to  do  it,  don't  sit  thar  a-mockin' 
of  me." 

At  this  moment  another  man,  bareheaded,  and  also  dressed 
in  a  suit  of  homespun  jeans,  emerged  from  a  thicket  on  the 
road-side,  nodded  to  my  companion,  looked  at  me,  and  said, 

"  Mornin',  stranger.  I  reckon  you'll  'light  an'  look  at  your 
saddle  ?" 

"  I've  jist  asked  him,"  put  in  my  companion  of  the  road. 
"  He  mocked  me.  The  devil  is  in  him." 

"  Slow,  Brother  Kite,  slow,"  said  the  second  man  ;  then,  turn- 


78  THE    TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

ing  to  me,  "  Now,  you  uns  air  a  stranger  in  these  parts,  I 
reckon  ?" 

I  admitted  the  fact. 

"  Well,  we  uns  air  a-holdin'  meetin'  heah  to-day.  Brother 
Kite  asked  you  to  'light  an'  fix  your  saddle,  an'  come  in  to 
meetin'." 

I  accepted  the  invitation,  and  afterwards  learned  that  the 
saddle  interlude  was  merely  the  East  Tennessee  way  of  inviting 
one  to  church.  The  saddle-girths  are  strapped  very  tight  to 
keep  the  rider  from  sliding  over  his  horse's  tail  in  climbing 
the  steep  mountains.  It  is  usual,  when  not  riding,  to  loosen 
the  girth  to  relieve  the  horse;  hence  the  form  of  invitation  to 
get  down  from  your  horse  and  stop  a  "  while  "  is  "  'light  and 
look  at  your  saddle." 

In  the  little  log  meeting-house  were  assembled  some  thirty 
or  forty  mountaineers. 

The  people  of  this  country  ought  to  be  the  healthiest  in 
the  world.  The  air  is  pure  and  bracing,  the  water  clear  and 
free  from  injurious  deposits,  food  abundant  and  cheap.  One 
would  expect  fresh,  rosy  faces ;  on  the  contrary,  most  of  the 
women  and  children  are  sallow,  and  the  former  wrinkled  be 
fore  their  time.  When  I  came  to  know  how  these  people 
ate  and  drank,  I  thought  the  premature  wrinkles,  decayed  teeth, 
and  sallow  skins  not  to  be  wondered  at.  Whiskey,  tobacco, 
and  hog-meat  constitute  the  principal  part  of  their  diet.  Scrof 
ula  often  afflicts  the  children,  while  consumption  carries  off  too 
many  of  the  adult  inhabitants. 

Brother  Kite  proved  to  be  the  preacher  for  whom  the  peo 
ple  in  the  little  log  meeting-house  were  waiting.  He  mounted 
the  pulpit  and  preached  the  most  remarkable  sermon  I  ever 
heard.  It  was  a  funeral  sermon  in  memory  of  a  sister  who 
had  been  dead  two  years,  and  whose  husband,  with  a  second 
wife,  was  present. 

"  Bretheren  and  sisters,"  said  Brother  Kite,  "  all  of  you  uns 
who  knowed  Sister  Betts  knowed  as  she  were  a  good  an'  faith 
ful  Christian  woman.  No  woman  in  these  parts  ever  gin  her 


AMONG  SOUTHERN  FARMERS.  79 

family  better  fried  ham  an'  eggs,  an'  better  coffee,  than  Sister 
Betts.  She  alias  had  such  good  butter  an'  such  good  milk. 
But  she's  gone  now.  Sister  Betts  is  gone  from  among  us,  an' 
thar  ain't  many  left  as  can  ekal  her  in  keepin'  house." 

At  that  time  I  was  studying  short-hand.  Hauling  out  my 
note-book  and  pencil,  I  begaji  to  note  down  Brother  Kite's 
sermon.  A  city  clergyman  is  pleased  to  see  stenographers  jot 
ting  down  his  eloquent  utterances,  but  Brother  Kite  was  not 
accustomed  to  seeing  writing  going  on  during  his  most  fervid 
utterances.  Pointing  at  me  his  long,  lean  forefinger,  he  said, 

"  Stranger !"  Every  eye  turned  on  me.  "  Stranger,  you  air 
in  the  Lord's  house,  an'  this  air  his  day." 

I  hurried  my  pencil  and  note-book  out  of  sight,  while  Broth 
er  Kite  proceeded  with  his  sermon.  An  hour's  intermission 
was  given  for  dinner.  The  women  filed  out  first,  then  the  men. 
As  I  was  walking  off  to  where  my  horse  was  hitched,  Brother 
Kite  overtook  me. 

"  You  ain't  agoin',  air  ye  ?" 

I  said  I  thought  it  time  to  go. 

"  Meetin'  ain't  half  over  yit.  You  uns  had  better  git  dinner 
with  Sister  Peggy,  and  stay  to  foot-washin'." 

As  I  had  never  seen  a  religious  foot- wash  ing,  I  accepted  the 
invitation.  Brother  Kite  took  me  up  to  Sister  Peggy,  who 
was  unloading  her  basket,  and  spreading  the  edibles  out  on  the 
white  cloth  at  the  root  of  a  tree. 

"  Come  to  buy  land  ?"  said  Sister  Peggy,  after  making  me 
welcome  to  her  fried  pies,  corn-bread,  and  cold  ham. 

I  said  I  was  only  looking  at  the  beautiful  country,  the  mount 
ains  and  valleys. 

"  Well,"  said  Sister  Peggy,  "  the  valley  land  can't  be  beat, 
It  raised  the  best  corn  last  year  I  ever  seed,  but  the  mountains 
ain't  good  for  much.  It  would  be  a  powerful  sight  better  if 
the  mountains  were  all  valleys." 

Before  we  began  eating,  Sister  Peggy  went  to  her  wagon  and 
brought  back  a  small  brown  jug. 

"  It's  your  old  favorite,  Brother  Kite," 


80  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"Let  the  stranger  have  the  first  pull,  Sister  Peggy,"  replied 
the  preacher,  passing  the  jug  to  me.  It  was  an  opaque  jug, 
but  I  was  not  at  a  loss  in  guessing  its  contents.  The  red  nose 
of  Sister  Peggy  led  me  to  believe  that  she  was  not  the  woman 
to  carry  around  a  jug  of  cold  water. 

Both  Brother  Kite  and  Sister  Peggy  were  astonished  when 
I  refused  to  drink.  They  seemed  to  think  it  as  natural  to 
drink  moonshine  whiskey  as  to  drink  water. 

"  Why,  stranger,"  said  the  preacher,  "  you  ain't  sick,  air  ye  ?" 

"  Noj  but  I  am  afraid  I  would  be  if  I  sampled  that  jug." 

After  dinner  the  women  set  to  work  putting  the  things 
back  in  the  baskets ;  the  men  gathered  around  in  knots  and 
talked  "  hogs,"  the  probable  price  of  corn,  and  whether  the 
"craps"  were  going  to  be  good.  Some,  to  my  astonishment, 
forgetting  that  it  was  the  Lord's  Day,  began  horse-trading. 
Even  the  preacher  joined  in  this  occupation. 

"  I  hearn  you'd  swapped  off  your  mare  for  Black  Nance," 
he  said,  addressing  one  of  a  group  of  men,  each  one  of  whom 
was  chewing  tobacco  and  whittling  a  stick  with  a  jack-knife. 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Git  any  boot?" 

"  Reckon  so.  You  didn't  'low  as  I'd  gin  Luce  for  Black 
Nance  'thout  boot?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  preacher.  "  Black  Nance's 
a  powerful  good  little  mare." 

"  So  was  Luce — worth  two  of  Nance,  if  she's  worth  a  cent." 

There  was  a  pause,  in  which  the  preacher  pulled  out  his 
knife  and  picked  up  a  stick  to  whittle.  When  he  had  found 
one  to  his  satisfaction  he  spoke : 

"  How  would  you  like  to  swap  Black  Nance  fur  my  Joe  ?" 

Brother  Hawkins  gave  the  preacher  a  keen  glance. 

"D'ye  mean  it?" 

"  Sartin." 

"  Well,  what'll  you  gimme  to  boot?" 

"  Boot !  Brother  Hawkins,  you  must  be  a-funnin'.  It's  me 
as  ought  to  have  boot.  Leastwise,  the  swap  orter  be  even," 


AMONG  SOUTHERN  FARMERS.  81 

This  dickering  lasted  five  or  ten  minutes.  Then  they  ad 
journed  to  where  the  horses  were  hitched  to  the  limbs  of  a 
tree,  where  Brother  Kite  pointed  out  the  fine  parts  of  Joe, 
while  Brother  Hawkins  descanted  on  the  sterling  qualities  of 
Black  Nance.  The  end  of  it  all  was,  the  preacher  took  Black 
Nance,  giving  in  exchange  his  horse  Joe  and  five  dollars  boot. 
Brother  Hawkins,  I  afterwards  heard,  was  the  best  horse-trader 
in  the  mountains.  He  went  once  to  "  meetin'  "  with  an  old 
yellow  cob,  made  several  swaps,  each  time  getting  boot,  and 
finally  rode  home  on  the  same  old  yellow  cob,  with  thirty  dol 
lars  extra  in  his  pocket.  He  had  a  knack  of  making  men  be 
lieve  their  horses  were  of  no  account  at  all,  while  his  own  had 
every  good  quality  known  to  the  equine  species. 

"When  the  horses  were  watered,  the  congregation  filed  back 
into  church  to  wash  each  other's  feet.  The  two  preachers  sat 
on  the  platform,  gave  out  the  hymn,  shut  their  eyes,  and  joined 
in  the  singing  with  great  feeling.  Buckets  of  water  were 
brought  from  a  neighboring  spring ;  some  ten  or  more  of  the 
male  portion  of  the  congregation  pulled  off  their  shoes — they 
had  no  stockings  to  pull  off — and  half  a  dozen  women,  of 
whom  Sister  Peggy  took  the  lead,  fell  on  their  knees  before 
one  old  fellow  after  another,  washing  each  man's  feet  and  wip 
ing  them  on  a  towel.  The  last  recipients  of  this  honor  were 
the  two  preachers,  who  seemed  to  derive  much  spiritual  conso 
lation  from  the  process.  The  ceremony  concluded  with  a  gen 
eral  hand-shaking  all  around,  amid  the  most  fervid  and  sten 
torian  singing. 

Sister  Peggy,  who  had  invited  me  to  spend  the  night  at  her 
place  in  "  Corn  Cove,"  after  some  delay  got  her  flock  of  tow- 
headed  children  stowed  away  in  the  wagon,  and  we  started  off. 


82  THE   TRAMP    AT   HOME. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AMONG    SOUTHERN    FARMERS Continued. 

THE  "KING  OF  CORN  COVE."  —  LIFE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS.  —  THE 
'SPRISE  DANCE  AT  SAMANTHA's. — WHY  BILL  CALLED  HIM  A  SNEAK. 
— MOUNTAIN  ETIQUETTE. 

CORN  COVE,  a  valley  hemmed  in  on  both  sides  by  steep 
mountains,  is  famous  for  producing  the  tallest  and  largest 
stalks  of  corn,  with  the  greatest  number  of  ears  to  the  stalk,  of 
any  land  in  the  State.  Old  man  Crownover,  Sister  Peggy's 
husband,  owned  miles  and  miles  of  valley  land,  besides  half  a 
dozen  mountains.  He  was  the  richest  man  of  that  section,  and 
was  called  the  "King  of  Corn  Cove." 

The  Crownover  house,  the  largest  .1  had  yet  seen  in  the 
mountains,  was  at  the  base  of  a  high  mountain,  built  of  wood, 
a  wide  hall  in  the  middle,  and  rooms  on  both  sides  of  the  hall. 
The  rear  end  of  the  hall,  used  as  a  dining-room,  was  hung  with 
coon-skins,  saddles,  harness,  rakes,  scythes,  and  bags  of  garden- 
seeds. 

"Well,  Peggy,"  said  the  white-headed  patriarch,  father  of 
three  sets  of  children,  "  I  reckon  you've  been  a-rushin'  religion 
down  at  the  meetin'-house." 

"  No  more'n  usual,  Jim.  Here's  a  city  man,  come  to  stay 
all  night  an'  look  about  the  country." 

"  Welcome  to  what  we've  got,  stranger.  Come  in  an'  sit 
right  down  to  supper.  Reckon  you  must  be  powerful  hungry 
by  this  time." 

Old  man  Crownover,  the  King  of  Corn  Cove,  was  as  fine  a 
specimen  of  untutored  humanity  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  At 
the  age  of  seventy  he  was  tall  and  straight  as  an  Indian,  his 
long  hair  white  as  snow.  I  learned  afterwards  that  he  had 


AMONG   SOUTHERN    FARMERS — CONTINUED.  83 

walked  from  Georgia  barefooted  by  the  side  of  his  first  wife, 
then  a  bride,  who  rode  the  only  horse,  and  the  only  piece  of 
property  he  owned  at  that  time.  Now  he  was  full  of  years, 
blessed  with  abundance  and  a  numerous  progeny.  On  the 
steps  of  the  front  porch  were  a  dozen  or  so  great  stalwart 
men  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  chewing  and  spitting  tobacco,  and 
talking  over  the  horse-trades  made  that  day. 

"Are  these  all  your  sons,  Mr.  Crownover?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  all  but  that  one  thar,"  pointing  to  a  young  fellow  at 
his  right.  "  They  claim  he's  my  son  Tom's  boy,  but  I  don't 
believe  it." 

"  What  does  Tom's  wife  say  ?" 

"Wife?  Tom  ain't  got  no  wife.  In  course  the  boy's  moth 
er  says  he's  Tom's  ;  that's  why  I'm  a-keepin'  him.  But  I  feel 
powerful  uncertain  about  it." 

The  youth  whose  paternity  was  thus  questioned  by  his  al 
leged  grandsire  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  these  deli 
cate  remarks. 

In  the  Crownover  household,  as  in  most  East  Tennessee 
households,  women  occupy  back  seats,  and  do  not  appear  at 
table  until  the  men  have  been  served.  When  the  ten  or  dozen 
of  us  who  first  sat  down  had  finished  supper,  another  relay  of 
men  dropped  in,  composed  of  cousins  and  nephews  and  friends 
and  hired  hands.  When  all  these  were  through,  and  not  be 
fore,  Mrs.  Crownover  and  her  daughters  sat  down  to  supper. 

In  their  home  life  I  found  the  mountaineers  of  East  Tennes 
see  almost  as  primitive  as  I  found  the  Italian  and  Hungarian 
peasantry.  After  a  day's  tramp  through  a  steady  rain,  I  was 
given,  at  Raciglione,  Italy,  a  room  in  which  were  three  other 
beds,  all  three  occupied  by  stout  Italian  lassies.  My  bed  was 
used  during  the  day  as  a  table  on  which  to  spread  out  trays  of 
silk-worms.  All  night  I  fancied  I  could  feel  the  worms  crawl 
ing  over  me.  In  the  room  I  slept  in  at  old  man  Crownover's 
were  four  beds,  two  of  which  in  the  daytime  were  run  under 
the  two  larger  ones.  One  of  these  was  occupied  by  two  girls 
who  had  waited  on  the  supper-table ;  the  other  three  beds  were 


84  THE   TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

occupied  by  men.  I  was  the  last  to  retire,  and  the  last  to  get 
up  in  the  morning.  When  I  yawned  and  peeped  out  from  the 
billowy  feather-bed  in  which  I  lay  buried,  the  occupants  of  the 
other  beds  were  up  and  gone,  excepting  one  girl,  who  stood 
before  the  cracked  little  mirror  combing  her  hair.  The  situ 
ation  was  embarrassing  to  me,  notwithstanding  the  experience 
I  had  had  in  Europe.  The  young  lady,  however,  seemed  quite 
at  ease. 

"  Had  I  better  get  up  ?"  I  ventured. 

"Just  as  you  please,"  was  the  nonchalant  reply. 

"  Of  course.     I  mean,  is  it  late  ?" 

"  Tends  on  what  you  uns  call  late." 

"  Is  everybody  up?" 

"  No,  you  uns  ain't." 

She  was  as  sober  as  a  judge.  When  quite  through  her  toilet, 
she  condescended  to  tell  me  she  hadn't  milked  yet,  and  that 
breakfast  would  not  be  ready  until  she  came  back  from  milk 
ing.  When  she  left,  I  jumped  up,  made  a  hasty  toilet,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  was  down  in  the  cow-lot  watching  her  milk  the 
cows.  She  kept  two  steady  streams  flowing  into  her  bucket. 
Her  sleeves  were  rolled  up,  showing  a  pair  of  brown,  sturdy 
arms,  her  brown  hair  brushed  smoothly  back,  not  a  friz,  not 
a  bang;  tricks  of  fashion  had  not  penetrated  to  these  remote 
parts.  I  waited  until  the  last  cow  was  milked,  then  walked 
back  with  her  to  the  house. 

"  Do  you  like  the  country  better  than  the  city  ?" 

"  I  wouldn't  live  in  a  city,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

"  What  city  were  you  ever  in  ?" 

"I've  been  in  Tusculum  twice — don't  like  it  a  bit." 

Tusculum  is  a  "city"  of  eighty-three  inhabitants! 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Crownover  invited  me  to  ride  with  him 
over  his  cornfields. 

"  If  you've  seed  better  corn  than  this,  say  so,"  he  said,  wav 
ing  his  hands  at  the  tall  stalks  with  proud  satisfaction. 

In  the  highest  stalks  the  first  ear  was  seven  or  eight  feet 
from  the  ground.  My  host  shucked  several  ears  to  show  how 


AMONG    SOUTHERN    FARMERS — CONTINUED.  85 

free  they  were  from  worms,  then  we  rode  on.  On  his  mount 
ain  land  he  showed  me  coal-mines,  the  coal  almost  on  the  very 
surface  of  the  earth.  The  great  value  of  these  mountains  is 
yet  unknown. 

Returning,  we  met  Sister  Peggy,  with  a  long  sun-bonnet  on 
her  head.  This  head -gear,  so  much  affected  by  mountain 
maids  and  matrons,  is  made  of  calico  stiffened  by  narrow 
strips  of  pasteboard.  The  bonnet  sticks  so  far  out  over  the 
wearer's  face  that  the  face  cannot  be  seen  except  by  standing 
directly  in  front. 

"You  uns  ain't  agoin'  to  ride  any  furder  to-night?"  she 
asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  ride  on  to  the  Devil's  Nose." 

"  Well,  now,  that's  a  pity.  Thar's  agoin'  to  be  a  dance  up 
to  Samantha's  to-night.  You'd  see  some  powerful  purty  young 
gals." 

"  The  Devil's  Nose  will  keep.  I  will  go  and  see  the  pretty 
girls." 

We  started,  after  an  early  supper,  across  the  cove  for  Saman 
tha's  dance.  There  were  no  swallow-tail  coats  for  the  men  nor 
frizzes  for  the  ladies.  The  only  preparation  the  Crownover 
girls  made  was  to  wash  their  faces  and  to  smooth  their  hair. 
Sister  Peggy  went  out  to  the  flour-barrel,  where,  buried  in  the 
flour,  she  kept  her  own  particular  bottle,  and  fortified  herself 
with  a  moderate-sized  drink  of  whiskey.  The  Crownover  men 
went  in  the  same  clothes  they  had  worn  all  day,  probably  all 
the  year. 

"  When  did  Mrs.  Samantha  send  out  her  invitations  to  the 
dance  ?"  I  asked  Miss  Sally,  the  girl  who  milked  the  cows. 

"  She  never  sent  no  invitations." 

"  How  do  you  know  we  are  wanted,  then  ?" 

"  It's  a  s'prise  dance.    Samantha  don't  know  nothin'  'bout  it." 

"And  will  she  be  ready  to  receive  us?" 

"  If  she  ain't,  she  can  git  herself  ready." 

When  we  had  crossed  the  cove  and  dismounted  before  Sa 
mantha's  cabin  door  all  was  darkness;  not  a  glimmer  of  light 


86  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

was  visible.  There  were  in  our  party  some  .eighteen  or  twenty 
persons,  nearly  all  the  sons  and  daughters,  or  grandsons  and 
granddaughters,  of  Mr.  Crownover.  The  old  man  did  not  come 
with  us.  Besides  these  there  were  several  hired  hands,  sons  of 
neighbors.  All  set  up  a  howl  in  chorus  loud  enough  to  awake 
the  wolves  on  the  mountain-tops.  From  the  darkness  within 
the  cabin  came  a  woman's  voice. 

"  Lors  a-mussy,  what  air  you  uns  a-doin'  out  thar  ?" 

"  Git  up,  Samantha ;  the  gals  an'  boys  have  come  to  storm 
you.  Whar's  Jim  an'  the  fiddle?  They  want  a  dance." 

Without  further  ceremony,  Sister  Peggy,  followed  by  the 
rest  of  us,  pushed,  into  the  cabin.  In  the  yawning  fireplace 
were  logs  of  wood  partially  burned,  and  covered  up  with  ashes 
to  keep  the  fire.  Sister  Peggy  raked  away  the  ashes,  and  soon 
a  bright  blaze  lighted  up  the  scene.  Samantha  and  her  hus 
band  were  in  bed  in  one  corner  of  the  room ;  in  a  trundle-bed 
near  by  were  half  a  dozen  tow-headed  little  children,  ranging 
from  two  to  ten  years  of  age,  fast  asleep. 

"  Brother  Kite  an'  folks  from  Snake  Trail  '11  be  along  purty 
soon,"  said  Sister  Peggy.  "  You'd  better  hustle  up  an'  git 
ready  for  the  dance,  Samantha." 

Thus  advised,  Samantha  reached  over  and  picked  up  her 
gown  from  the  floor,  slipped  it  over  her  head,  and  stood  before 
us  arrayed  in  her  festive  robe.  Jim  used  no  more  ceremony 
about  his  toilet.  While  Jim  was  tuning  his  fiddle  his  wife  got 
a  dozen  tallow-candles  and  stuck  them  about  the  windows  and 
over  the  door.  The  coon-skins,  saddles,  harness,  and  other  use 
ful  things  were  banished  to  remoter  parts,  and  by  the  time 
Brother  Kite  and  the  Snake  Trail  crowd  had  arrived  the  fes 
tivities  were  well  under  way.  A  glass  of  strong  toddy  was 
given  Brother  Kite  to  keep  him  warm,  as  he  did  not  dance ; 
those  who  did  dance  drank  to  keep  cool.  One  of  the  Snake 
Trail  men,  a  big,  gawky  fellow  who  did  not  succeed  in  getting 
a  partner,  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  by  throwing  matches  on 
the  floor.  When  the  girls  trod  on  them  and  made  them  pop, 
the  gawky  man  laughed  loudly  at  their  screams  and  jumps. 


AMONG    SOUTHERN   FARMERS— CONTINUED.  87 

One  of  Crownover's  strapping  grandsons  took  exception  to 
this. 

"  I'll  bet  some  sneak  from  Snake  Trail  thro  wed  them  match 
es,"  he  said. 

"  You  'low  a  sneak  done  it  ?" 

"  I  do  that !"  said  Bill,  a  fiery  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"  Well,  I  throwed  'em.     Who  dar'  say  I'm  a  sneak  ?" 

"You  said  it  yourself,"  sneered  Bill. 

"  I  dar'  you  to  say  that  outside,"  cried  the  match-thrower. 

"  I  don't  take  a  dar'  from  no  man  !"  replied  Bill,  angrily. 

The  two  went  out  into  the  dark;  three  or  four  who  had 
heard  the  dispute  followed  to  see  that  there  was  fair  play.  In 
a  very  short  time  the  whole  crowd  returned,  apparently  satis 
fied.  Bill's  left  eye  was  blackened,  and  the  Snake  Trail  man's 
upper  lip  was  cut  and  swelled  in  a  way  that  did  not  add  to  his 
beauty,  of  which  he  had  no  great  share  to  begin  with. 

After  that  the  dance  proceeded  peaceably,  the  two  comba 
tants  joining  in  the  same  set  seemingly  as  good  friends  as  be 
fore  their  fisticuff  affair.  It  was  midnight  before  the  dance 
ended  and  we  were  again  at  the  house  of  the  King  of  Corn 
Cove. 


88  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


LOST  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN. — MISTAKEN  FOR  A  REVENUE  -  OFFICER. — 
IMPRISONED  IN  A  CAVE. — HOW  I  ESCAPED. — A  PIOUS  MOON 
SHINER. — I  RIDE  INTO  NORTH  CAROLINA. 

NEXT  morning  my  horse  was  saddled,  my  blankets  strapped 
on,  and  everything  made  ready  for  my  departure  to  the  Devil's 
Nose. 

"  Whar's  his  grub,  Peggy  ?"  asked  my  host  of  his  wife. 

"  In  the  saddle-bags,"  said  that  good  woman. 

"  An'  he  mout  want  a  tickler,  Peggy.  It's  a  rough  ride  to 
the  Devil's  Nose." 

Thanking  them  heartily,  and  declining  the  "tickler,"  the 
name  given  a  flat  bottle  used  for  carrying  whiskey,  I  started 
off,  following  as  closely  as  I  could  the  directions  which  Mr. 
Crownover  had  given  me  for  finding  the  summit  of  the  mount 
ain  called  the  Devil's  Nose,  from  its  supposed  similarity  to  that 
feature  of  his  Satanic  majesty.  The  narrow  trail  wound  up 
the  rugged  side  of  a  mountain.  My  horse,  being  mountain- 
bred,  was  as  surefooted  as  an  Alpine  goat,  and  cautiously 
stepped  from  stone  to  stone  up  the  almost  precipitous  height. 
A  misstep  would  have  been  fatal  to  us  both.  Every  now  and 
then  the  trail  passed  around  abrupt  cliffs,  from  the  top  of 
which  the  valley  could  be  seen  spread  out  like  a  green  carpet 
two  thousand  feet  below.  While  scrambling  up  one  part  of 
the  steep  slope,  a  large  hole  attracted  my  attention.  Alight 
ing  from  my  horse  and  dropping  a  stone  down  the  hole,  I 
judged  it  to  be  about  twenty  feet  deep.  The  dead  trunk  of 
a  small  cedar-tree  lay  near  by ;  I  dragged  it  to  the  hole  and 
lowered  it  in,-  and  by  this  rude  ladder  scrambled  down  to  the 


A    NIGHT    ON    THE    DEVIL'S   NOSE.  89 

bottom.  A  curious  and  beautiful  scene  rewarded  me  for  my 
trouble.  From  the  base  of  the  extempore  ladder  led  a  gently 
sloping  passage-way,  which,  with  lighted  candle  in  hand,  I  fol 
lowed  to  a  large  chamber,  with  a  vaulted  dome  not  unlike  the 
dome  of  a  cathedral.  There  were  many  curious  stalactite  and 
other  geological  formations  in  the  large  chamber.  One  was 
shaped  exactly  like  a  horse's  leg  and  hoof.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  petrified  remnant  of  some  antediluvian  steed. 

When  it  came  to  getting  out  I  found,  at  the  expense  of 
bruised  shins  and  torn  clothing,  that  it  is  much  easier  to  crawl 
down  than  to  climb  up  a  pole.  By  the  time  I  had  accom 
plished  the  latter  feat  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Pushing 
forward  as  rapidly  as  I  could,  I  was  still  unable  to  reach  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  before  the  set  of  sun.  Mr.  Crownover 
had  given  explicit  directions  how  to  find  a  deserted  cabin, 
where  I  expected  to  spend  the  night.  But  somehow  his  direc 
tions  seemed  all  wrong.  An  hour's  brisk  trotting  did  not 
bring  me  to  the  cabin.  The  screaming  of  catamounts  and 
wild-cats  brought  to  mind  the  stories  I  had  lately  heard  of  the 
ferocity  of  these  inhabitants  of  the  mountain  wilds.  A  hun 
gry  wild-cat  had  a  few  days  before  walked  into  the  telegraph- 
ofiice  of  a  lonely  station  and  sprung  on  the  operator's  back, 
and  might  have  killed  him  but  for  the  timely  arrival  of  assist 
ance.  The  fear  that  one  might  spring  on  me  from  the  boughs 
of  a  tree  kept  me  on  the  ragged  edge  of  anxiety. 

It  is  sometimes  a  glorious  thing  to  be  alone  ;  nothing  I  like 
more — at  times.  To  roam  the  pathless  woods,  or  to  stand  on 
a  lofty  peak  on  a  bright,  clear  day  is  one  thing ;  it  is  quite 
another  to  be  lost  on  the  top  of  a  desolate  mountain.  It  was 
nine  o'clock  before  I  gave  up,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  sleep 
out.  I  soon  had  a  rousing  fire.  Its  big  blaze  was  not  only 
delightfully  warm,  but  it  gave  a  sense  of  security.  Wolves 
and  wild-cats  will  not  come  up  to  fire.  I  picketed  my  horse 
where  the  grass  was  highest,  dealt  out  to  myself  a  slice  of  corn- 
bread  and  bacon,  then  rolled  up  in  my  blanket  and  lay  down, 
not  to  sleep  but  to  keep  watch, 


90  THE    TKAMP  AT   HOME. 

Once,  in  the  southern  part  of  Russia,  I  went  for  two  weeks 
without  seeing  any  but  the  rudest  peasants,  and  without  speak 
ing  or  understanding  a  word  of  the  language  about  me.  With 
that  exception,  I  do  not  think  I  ever  experienced  a  greater 
sense  of  loneliness  than  I  felt  that  cold  night  on  the  summit 
of  the  Devil's  Nose. 

However,  in  spite  of  myself  I  dropped  to  sleep.  It  was  yet. 
dark  when  the  whinnying  and  snorting  of  my  horse  wakened 
me.  I  started  up,  and  saw  by  the  light  of  the  fire  a  wild,  un 
kempt-looking  man  with  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle  pointed  direct 
at  my  head.  He  stood  a  few  yards  off. 

"  Throw  up  your  hands  thar !"  he  commanded,  in  a  stern 
voice. 

With  arms  entangled  in  the  blankets,  this  was  not  so  quickly 
done. 

"  Come  !  no  foolin',  throw  'em  up  !"  repeated  the  fellow. 

An  ominous  click  of  the  rifle  expedited  me  not  a  little  in 
obeying  his  command. 

"  Now,"  said  the  amiable  stranger,  "  git  up  an'  foller  me. 
Never  min'  your  hoss.  He'll  keep." 

I  arose  feeling,  I  must  confess,  weak  about  the  knees.  The 
fact  that  my  pockets  were  about  as  empty  as  his  could  be  was 
the  only  thing  that  reassured  me.  When  he  found  I  was  not 
worth  robbing  he  would  let  me  go.  The  fear  that  he  might 
play  the  Italian  brigand  and  send  to  my  friends  a  demand  ac 
companied  by  my  ear  or  nose  never  occurred  to  me.  The  whole 
affair  looks  very  absurd  now,  though  at  the  time  it  was  pain 
fully  serious.  There  I  was,  my  arms  stretched  above  my  head, 
marching  through  the  forest,  as  the  mountaineers  say,  at  the 
"business"  end  of  a  rifle. 

"  Wouldn't  you  just  as  lief  take  what  I've  got  here  and  let 
me  go?"  I  asked  the  man  behind  me. 

"  That's  jist  what  I'm  a-doin'.     I'm  a-takin'  you" 

"Well,  what  in  the  deuce  do  you  want  with  me?" 

"  Hold  them  hands  up  an'  git  along,"  was  his  emphatic  reply. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  glimmer  of  a  light  in  a  cabin  became 


A    NIGI1T    ON    THE    DEVIL'S    NOSE.  91 

visible  through  the  underbrush  and  trees.  My  guard  and 
guide  immediately  set  up  a  whoop  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  Comanche. 

"Come  ahead,  boys.     I've  got  him." 

We  were  by  this  time  quite  near  the  log-cabin  where  the 
light  glimmered,  and  five  or  six  big-bearded  men  came  out  to 
meet  us. 

"  Whar  did  you  find  him,  Bill  ?" 

"  Over  by  Snake  Trail.  Take  his  guns,  Jim ;  I'm  a-tired 
a-keepin'  this  rifle  on  him." 

James,  gentle  James,  approached  me,  and  went  through  my 
pockets  in  the  most  approved  highwayman-like  style.  The 
result  of  his  investigations  seemed  to  surprise  him. 

"Why,  Bill,"  in  an  injured  tone,  "the  son  of  a  gun  ain't 
got  no  gun." 

"  Sartin  ?" 

"  Sartin." 

Bill  lowered  his  rifle,  and  I  lowered  my  arms.  It  was 
time.  They  were  aching  from  their  unnatural  and  forced 
position. 

In  the  hut  was  not  even  a  chair  or  stool.  Was  this  the 
deserted  cabin  Mr.  Crownover  had  spoken  of?  These  men 
seemed  quite  at  home  in  it.  A  whispered  consultation  was 
held — about  me,  as  I  supposed  from  their  looks  and  gestures. 
Presently  the  man  called  Jim  turned  and  spoke  to  me. 

"  Whar  did  you  come  from  ?" 

I  told  him. 

"  What  air  you  a-doin'  on  this  heah  mounting  ?" 

"  Why,  just  now  it  looks  as  if  I  was  answering  questions." 

The  pleasantry  was  lost  on  James. 

"  You'll  be  a-fillin'  a  six-foot  grave  if  you  don't  look  out," 
he  replied,  grimly.  "  We  uns  don't  want  no  spies  about  heah. 
Humph !"  he  went  on,  rapidly,  "  you  uns  thought  you  played 
us  a  sharp  trick  yestiddy  mornin',  but  Mounting  Jim  ain't  so 
easy  to  ketch.  Do  you  know  what  we  uns  air  allowin'  to  do  ?" 

"  Haven't  the  least  idea," 


92  THE    TRAMP  AT   HOME. 

"  We  air  agoin'  to  lay  for  your  whole  gang,  an'  you've  got 
to  help  us." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  I  have  no 
gang." 

The  man's  face  darkened. 

"  See  heah,"  he  said,  "  thar  ain'  no  use  a-foolin'.  We  uns 
air  agoin'  to  ketch  your  gang  sure  pop.  Help  us,  an'  we'll  let 
you  go.  If  you  don't — "  And  he  made  a  significant  gesture. 

The  situation  was  getting  more  and  more  serious.  I  began 
to  lose  patience. 

"  What  can  I  tell  you  about  any  gang?"  I  broke  out,  angrily. 
"  I've  been  in  your  mountains  only  a  week." 

Jim  smiled  sardonically. 

"  Mebbe  you  warn't  down  to  Wood's  Mill  Saturday  mornin'  ?". 

"  Certainly  not.     I  never  heard  of  Wood's  Mill." 

"  An'  didn't  track  us  over  Snake  Trail  Sunday  ?" 

"  I  was  at  church  all  day  Sunday — at  church,  and  at  old 
man  Crownover's." 

"  What's  the  use  o'  lyin'  ?  We  seed  you  a-climbin'  the  trail. 
Bill  seed  you  go  down  into  the  cave.  I  tell  you,  mister,  the 
Guvment  ain't  got  no  right  to  stop  us ;  I  tell  you  we  ain't 
agoin'  to  be  stopped.  We  ain't  agoin'  to  stand  no  spies  a-dog- 
gin'  us^' 

"  I  am  no  spy.  I  am  an  agent  of  the  Labor  Department.  I 
am  looking  up  labor  statistics." 

I  pulled  out  my  commission,  signed  by  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior.  The  men  crowded  around  while  Jim  spelled  out  the 
"  whereases"  and  "herebys"  of  that  official  document.  I  saw 
that  the  paper  had  a  good  effect. 

"  Mebbe  we  have  got  the  wrong  man,"  said  one  of  the  men, 
doubtfully. 

"  No ;  he's  a-puttin'  a  job  on  us.  What'd  he  be  a-lookin'  up 
labor  heah  on  this  mounting  ?" 

I  did  all  I  could  to  explain  my  presence  there ;  and  while 
they  were  not  entirely  convinced,  yet  I  could  see  their  suspi 
cions  were  shaken. 


93 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  the  leader,  after  some  discussion,  "  we 
can  wait,  anyhow,  till  mornin'.  Reynolds's  gang'll  never  find 
us  heah.  I  reckon  we  mout  as  well  git  to  work." 

He  fell  on  his  knees,  and  prying  a  knife-blade  between  two 
boards,  lifted  one  of  them  out.  A  second  and  a  third  came 
out ;  then  he  squeezed  his  body  through,  and  disappeared  into 
a  dark-looking  hole  below.  We  all  followed  him,  and  I  real 
ized  for  the  first  time  that  I  was  face  to  face  with  some  of  the 
noted  Tennessee  moonshiners.  There  were  the  copper  boilers, 
the  pipes,  and  other  paraphernalia  of  a  rude  distillery.  The 
boards  in  the  floor  were  replaced,  a  fire  was  made,  and  the  il 
licit  distillery  men  set  to  work.  Their  stalwart  forms  cast  gigan 
tic  shadows  on  the  walls  of  the  cave.  Cold  chills  ran  up  and 
.down  me  as  I  sat  in  one  corner,  wondering  what  they  would  do 
with  me.  Even  if  I  succeeded  in  convincing  them  that  I  was 
not  a  revenue-officer,  they  would  fear  I  might  report  them,  and 
so  keep  me,  or  do  me  some  injury,  for  their  own  protection. 

A  little  before  day  the  work  stopped.  One  of  the  men  pre 
pared  a  meal  of  corn-bread  and  fried  bacon.  I  was  told  to 
pitch  in. 

"  We  don't  starve  spies,  we  shoot  'em,"  said  Jim,  with  a 
chunk  of  bread  in  his  mouth. 

Scarcely  had  they  begun,  when  Mountain  Jim  was  brought 
to  his  feet  by  a  tapping  on  the  floor  overhead.  He  listened  a 
moment. 

"  It's  all  right,  boys,"  he  said,  and  answered  the  knocks  from 
the  underside.  Upon  this  the  planks  were  removed,  and  the 
body  of  a  man  squeezed  through  the  hole  in  the  floor  and 
descended  the  ladder.  To  my  astonishment,  this  man  was 
one  of  the  brothers  I  had  seen  at  the  "feet-washing"  on 
Sunday. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  said,  not  seeing  me  at  first.  "  Reynolds's 
gang's  done  gin  up  the  hunt  an'  gone  back  to  Greeneville  las' 
night— " 

"  Hi !  don't  talk  so  much,"  interrupted  Jim  ;  "  we've  got  one 
of  'em  heah." 


94  THE  TRAM]?  AT  HOME. 

"You  don't  tell!  Whar'd  you  ketch  him?  What!  that 
chap  ?" 

All  eyes  turned  on  me. 

"Him  one  o'  Reynolds' s  gang?  Well,  Jim,  you  air  a-gettin' 
peart,  you  air,  fur  a  fack.  Whar'd  you  ketch  this  kid  ?" 

"Out  by  Snake  Trail." 


MOONSHINER  S       CABIN    ON    THE    DEVIL  S    NOSE. 


"  Well,  he  don't  no  moah  b'long  to  Reynolds's  gang  than 
any  you  boys.  He  was  up  to  meetin'  Sunday  with  Brother 
Kite  an'  Sister  Peggy.  He's  one  o'  them  special  agints  what's 
a-writin'  up  all  about  labor  folks." 

"Well,  I  swar!"  said  Jim. 

"  What's  to  be  did  with  the  feller  now  ?"  said  another. 
"  He'll  blow  on  us  if  we  let  him  loose." 


95 

"  Let  him  blow  !"  cried  Jim.  "  Blindfold  him,  and  leave 
him  on  the  trail  whar  you  found  him." 

"  You  mustn't  hurt  the  kid,"  said  Brother  Hawkins,  with 
pious  authority.  "  He  ain't  done  us  no  harm,  an'  we  mustn't 
do  him  no  harm.  We  ain't  murderers  an'  robbers,  ef  the 
Guvment  do  treat  us  that  vay." 

This  good  advice  was  followed.  Brother  Hawkins  himself 
tied  my  handkerchief  securely  over  my  eyes,  giving  me,  while 
so  doing,  a  serious  warning. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "the  boys  hev  made  a  mistake. 
They  warn't  after  you.  They  ain't  got  nothin'  agin  you.  It's 
the  Guvment  spies  what  gits  up  their  dander.  The  Guvment's 
got  no  bizness  sendin'  spies  aroun'  meddlin'  with  us  mounting 
fellers.  We  uns  hev  got  jist  as  much  right  to  make  our  own 
lickcr  outen  our  corn  as  we've  got  to  make  our  own  bread  outen 
it ;  an'  it  nattally  gits  up  our  boys'  dander  to  hev  our  liberties 
took  away  from  us  by  our  own  Guvment  what  we  fought  to 
keep  up  agin  the  Secesh.  Now,  Jim,  send  one  o'  the  boys  to 
set  this  chap  on  the  trail ;  an'  min',  my  son,  you  keep  mum 
'bout  this  heah  little  job.  It'll  be  better  fur  you." 

I  willingly  promised  to  keep  mum,  then  was  put  in  charge 
of  the  man  who  had  found  me  asleep  in  the  woods.  When  I 
got  to  the  surface  I  felt  the  fresh  air  on  my  face,  but  my  eyes 
were  so  tightly  bandaged  that  I  could  not  tell  whether  it  was 
day  or  night.  After  a  tiresome  tramp,  I  was  put  on  a  horse — 
whether  my  own  or  not  I  did  not  know  at  the  time — and  was 
led  down  the  mountain.  At  last  we  came  to  a  dead  halt. 

"  I  reckon  I  kin  leave  you  now,  mister ;  but  recolleck,  if  you 
blow  on  us  you're  a  gone  coon,  sure.  The  boys'll  git  onto  you, 
sartin,  an'  no  mistake.  You  sit  still  fur  five  minits,  an'  then  git." 

He  put  the  bridle  in  my  hand.  I  sat  still  for  what  I  judged 
was  five  minutes,  then  removed  my  bandage  and  looked  about. 
The  sun  was  up,  and  no  moonshiner  to  be  seen. 

The  trail  descended  the  mountain  rapidly.  Half  an  hour 
before  reaching  the  valley  a  sudden  turnbrought  me  before  a 
lo^-cabin  surrounded  by  a  ^ 

0? 


96  THE   TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

"  Hello  !"  I  cried. 

There  was  no  answer.  I  called  again.  A  third  call  brought 
out  a  wrinkled  old  woman,  with  snuff  smeared  over  her  mouth 
and  chin. 

"  Can  I  get  something  to  eat  here  ?" 

"  Yaas,  I  reckon.     Git  down  an'  look  at  your  saddle." 

Excepting  the  wrinkled  woman,  the  hut  seemed  deserted; 
but  there  was  a  quantity  of  boots,  saddles,  and  men's  clothing 
strewn  about.  Evidently  when  her  family  was  together  it  con 
sisted  of  men.  The  old  woman  eyed  me  suspiciously. 

"  Whar'd  you  come  from,  mister?" 

"  From  Corn  Cove." 

"  Got  up  purty  airly,  I  reckon  ?" 

"  Why,  yes.     The  fact  is,  I  have  been  riding  most  all  night." 

The  moonshiner's  warning  was  still  ringing  in  my  ears,  and 
I  was  inclined  to  be  cautious.  This  might  be  the  home  of  an 
other  gang,  for  all  I  knew.  The  mountains  of  East  Tennessee 
were,  and  still  arer  often  raided  by  revenue-officers,  whom  the 
moonshiners  consider  their  natural  enemies,  and  no  more  hesi 
tate  to  shoot  down  than  they  hesitate  to  shoot  robbers.  I  doubt 
if  it  be  possible  to  get  into  a  moonshiner's  head  the  idea  that 
it  is  wrong  to  make  his  own  whiskey.  Moonshiners  have  the 
feeling  that  the  Government  is  meddling  with,  that  it  is  at 
tacking,  their  liberties,  when  it  attempts  to  interfere  with  their 
whiskey  distilleries. 

I  ate  the  corn-bread  and  bacon  which  the  old  woman  put 
before  me,  and  pushed  on  to  Warm  Springs,  North  Carolina, 
where  I  stopped  several  days  to  rest  and  to  recover  from  my 
moonshine  scare. 


A   NIGHT   ON   THE    DEYIL*S   NOSE.  97 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IN    TEXAS. 

A  GIFTED  LIAR. — HOW  HE  ASTONISHED  LORD  PALMERSTON  AND  THE 
QUEEN. — HOW  HE  FILLED  GENERAL  HANCOCK  WITH  WATERMELON 
AND  SAVED  THE  REBEL  ARMY.— TEXAS  COWBOYS,  THEIR  WAGES 
AND  ROUGH  LIFE. — THE  CATTLE  KINGS  OF  THE  PANHANDLE. — A 
TRIP  INTO  MEXICO. — CONDITION  OF  LABOR  IN  THE  MEXICAN  RE 
PUBLIC.— THE  CUSTOMS-OFFICERS  ON  THE  FRONTIER. 

THERE  were  no  moonshiners  in  Texas ;  nevertheless,  I  found 
travelling  there  almost  as  rough  and  full  of  adventure  as  in 
East  Tennessee.  Some  of  the  sheep-ranches  in  the  western 
part  of  the  State  were  reached  only  by  long  buck-board  rides. 
It  was  still  dark  when  the  clerk  of  the  National  Hotel — a 
board  shanty  of  four  rooms — called  me,  with  the  gruff  remark 
that  the  stage  was  waiting.  I  jumped  up,  half  asleep,  to  pre 
pare  for  the  journey.  Disposing  of  some  fried  ham,  greasy 
biscuits,  and  dreggy  coffee,  the  usual  Western  breakfast,  I 
walked  to  the  door  to  look  for  the  stage.  A  one-eyed  man 
with  long  hair  and  a  sour  face  was  lounging  on  the  platform 
in  front  of  the  board  shanty  called  a  hotel.  Near  him  stood 
two  scrubby  horses  hitched  to  a  vehicle  consisting  of  a  pair  of 
wheels  connected  by  two  long  boards,  with  a  seat  in  the  mid 
dle  three  feet  wide. 

"  When  does  the  stage  arrive?"  I  asked,  politely. 

The  long-haired  man  ejected  a  huge  quid  of  tobacco  from 
his  mouth  as  he  answered, 

"It  is  already  arriv." 

"Where  is  it?" 

He  gave  me  a  glance  of  deep  disgust. 

"  Young  man,  the  stage  is  arriv,  but  she  won't  stay  arriv. 
5 


98  THE   TRAMP  AT   HOME. 

She's  agoin  to  vamoose  this  ranch  poorty  quick.  Ef  you 
wanter  go,  you'd  better  hump.  You  hear  me  talk,  doncher?" 

Mounting  the  rickety  concern  above  described,  he  shouted, 
"  All  aboard,"  and  I  awoke  to  the  fact  that  that  was  the  stage, 
and  that  the  one-eyed,  long-haired  man  was  the  driver. 

The  agent  who  sells  the  tickets  speaks  of  the  "stage"  with 
an  air  that  leads  one  to  think  of  the  coaches  the  elder  Weller 
drove,  and  in  which  the  famous  Pickwick  Club  rode.  The 
agent,  however,  is  the  only  one  who  uses  or  understands  the 
term.  The  vehicles  are  called  by  their  drivers,  and  by  the 
public  generally,  "  buck-board  barouches  " — a  euphonious  term  ; 
but  there  praise  must  end.  My  memory  does  not  recall  a  more 
fatiguing  experience  than  that  ride  through  northern  Texas, 
sitting  bolt  upright  night  and  day  on  the  hard  scat  of  the  hard, 
jolting  buck-board  barouche. 

The  first  twenty  miles  were  pleasant  enough.  The  fields 
were  only  slightly  undulating;  the  road  was  smooth.  We 
moved  along  in  a  sea  of  grass.  Then  we  crossed  Red  River ; 
the  roads  became  rough,  the  hard  buck-board  seat  grew  harder 
and  harder,  and  I  inwardly  anathematized  the  man  who  in 
vented  buck-board  barouches.  For  half  a  day  the  buck-board 
jogged  along  in  a  narrow  lane  between  two  wire  fences  that 
cost  thirty  thousand  dollars.  When  the  end  of  this  long  lane 
was  reached  we  emerged  into  the  open  prairie,  and  for  hours 
seemed  scarcely  to  move.  We  were  in  the  centre  of  a  vast 
yellow  circle.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was  a  sea  of  yel 
low7,  waving  grass. 

The  long-haired  driver  lighted  his  pipe  and  threw 'the  burn 
ing  match  on  the  ground.  The  dry  grass  ignited.  In  a  few 
minutes  there  was  a  roaring  fire  behind  us.  The  wind  blew  in 
our  faces,  and  so  blew  the  fire  farther  and  farther  away.  I 
looked  back  after  several  hours,  and  could  still  see  flames  and 
columns  of  smoke  rising  in  the  distance.  Fires  begun  in  this 
accidental  way  sometimes  burn  for  weeks,  spreading  over  thou 
sands  of  acres  of  prairie. 

The  buck-board  drivers  rarely  see  strangers,  yet  seem  as  little 


IX   TEXAS.  99 

inclined  to  converse  as  though  surfeited  with  small-talk  every 
day.  When  we  reached  the  first  dugout,  where  the  horses 
were  changed,  a  man  with  hair  even  longer  than  my  driver's 
emerged  from  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  began  unhitching  the 
two  scrubby  ponies. 

"  Howdy  do,  Bill  ?"  said  my  driver. 

"Howdy  do?"  replied  Bill. 

There  the  conversation  ended.  The  change  of  horses  was 
made,  the  driver  cracked  his  whip.  Bill  looked  at  us  a  minute, 
then  retreated  into  his  dugout,  and  we  were  alone  again  on  the 
yellow  sea  of  grass. 

The  dugout,  in  which  the  hostlers  of  these  Western  buck- 
board  lines  live,  is  a  peculiar  and  primitive  dwelling,  made  by 
digging  a  hole  in  the  ground,  laying  logs  across  this  hole,  and 
heaping  on  top  of  the  logs  to  a  depth  of  three  or  four  feet  the 
earth  excavated  from  beneath.  The  door  consists  of  a  canvas 
flap ;  you  lift  this  flap,  duck  your  head  until  you  are  not  more 
than  four  feet  tall,  and  enter  the  hostler's  home.  At  one  end 
is  a  log  bedstead  with  a  mattress  of  straw.  A  hole  in  the 
centre  of  the  dirt  floor  serves  as  stove  and  fireplace ;  a  stool 
and  a  rough  board  table  complete  the  furnishings. 

The  hostler  at  the  second  change,  a  gray-bearded  man  whom 
my  driver  called  "  Uncle  Jeff,"  had  for  years  been  living  thus 
in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  on  a  diet  of  bacon  and  bread,  with  no 
society  save  that  of  his  horses.  These  rude  men  of  the  West 
burrow  underground  to  escape  cold  and  snow.  In  Lapland  and 
extreme  northern  Sweden  peasants  and  fishermen,  to  escape 
the  same  thing,  resort  to  an  exactly  opposite  plan.  They  build 
what  is  called  an  "njalla"  (a  small  hut),  on  three  poles,  often 
only  on  one.  The  poles  are  planted  firmly  in  the  ground,  leav 
ing  the  njalla  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  the  air,  accessible  only  by 
means  of  a  ladder.  In  this  peculiar  hut  the  Swedish  peasant 
keeps  a  store  of  dried  fish,  oil,  and  bread,  and  thither  he  resorts 
during  storms  or  when  the  snow  is  deep.  A  village  of  njallas 
is  almost  as  odd  a  sight  as  a  village  of  prairie  dugouts. 

An  interesting  class  of  working-men  in  Texas  is  the  cow- 


100  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

boy.  It  is  a  wide  step  from  the  pale  Massachusetts  factory 
operative  to  the  free  and  festive  Texas  cowboy.  The  cow 
boy  does  not  work  in  a  "  cooped-up,"  ill-smelling,  ill-ventilated 
room ;  still  he  works,  belongs  to  the  rank  of  wage-earners, 
and  I  made  some  inquiries  into  his  general  condition  and 
mode  of  life. 

A  cowboy  does  hard,  rough  work,  and  gets  twenty-five  or 
thirty  dollars  a  month.  "Prudent"  cowboys  sometimes  make 
small  fortunes  in  a  few  years.  There  is  no  human  eye  to  see 
what  he  does  on  those  vast  cattle-ranches  in  the  Panhandle. 
He  can  take  a  cow  here  and  a  calf  there,  put  on  them  a  brand 
of  his  own,  and  thus  lay  the  foundation  of  a  flourishing  cattle- 
ranch  and  set  up  in  business  for  himself.  I  saw  a  stockman 
who  had  come  to  Texas  seven  years  before  without  a  cent,  and 
hired  out  as  cowboy.  When  I  saw  him  he  was  worth  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  began  taking  a  cow  here  and 
there,  branding  them  with  his  own  mark,  and  then  starting  out  on 
his  own  account.  Cattle-men  built  up  the  town  of  Gainesville. 
Though  a  place  of  only  two  or  three  thousand  inhabitants,  it 
contains  a  number  of  "cattle  kings"  and  a  number  of  resi 
dences  finer  than  are  usually  found  in  places  three  times  the 
size.  I  called  at  one  residence  that  was  quite  palatial  in  its 
furnishings.  The  grounds  were  handsomely  laid  off  with  beau 
tiful  flower-beds,  evergreens,  and  vines.  The  parlors  were  richly 
carpeted.  In  a  few  minutes  the  darky  by  whom  I  had  sent  up 
my  card  came  down  and  said, 

"Marse  Jim  says  as  he  doan  want  none  o'  dem  kyards." 

"  Your  master  Jim  does  not  want  what?" 

"  None  o'  dem  kyards,"  repeated  the  darky,  giving  me  back 
the  visiting  card  I  had  sent  up  by  him. 

I  afterwards  discovered  that  this  cattle-king  could  not  write 
his  name.  When  he  drew  checks  on  his  bank  (as  he  could  do) 
for  thousands  of  dollars,  he  signed  the  checks  with  a  cross- 
mark.  During  my  interview  with  him  he  sat  chewing  tobacco, 
ever  and  anon  spitting  the  juice  of  that  disgusting  weed  on 
the  costly  carpet  that  covered  the  floor. 


IN    TEXAS.  101 

There  is  nothing  some  cowboys  so  dearly  love  as  to  pose 
as  dangerous  desperadoes. 

"  They're  a  rough  lot,"  said  one  to  me.  "  They  are  all  thieves 
and  liars.  Not  a  mother's  son  of  them  knows  how  to  tell  the 
truth." 

"  Of  course  you  except*  yourself  ?"  I  said. 

"  No,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do !"  he  replied,  with  charming 
candor.  "Here,  Bill,  tell  this  city  chap  what  you  know  of  me." 

"  He's  the  biggest  rascal  I  ever  saw !"  was  Bill's  prompt 
reply. 

The  first  cowboy  looked  as  pleased  as  if  a  high  compliment 
had  been  paid  him. 

"Once,  out  in  Leadville,"  he  said,  "a  gang  of  us  boys  took 
the  town.  Some  on  us  had  been  shootin'  at  the  decanters  in  a 
saloon,  and  the  police  arrested  my  chum.  This  riled  us.  We 
galloped  down  the  main  street  firing  right  and  left,  dropping 
every  man  we  hit.  We  took  the  place  by  storm.  Not  a  face 
was  to  be  seen.  Five  minutes  after  the  fight  begun  we  got 
our  man  out,  and  struck  for  Texas.  Five  days  and  nights  we 
never  touched  ground.  We  ate  our  grub  loping  along  at  a 
six-mile  rate." 

This  cowboy  was  greatly  pleased  because  I  appeared  to  credit 
his  story.  When  I  asked  why  he  had  left  his  native  Kentucky, 
he  replied, 

"  It  warn't  because  I  didn't  like  old  Kaintuck.  Kaintuck's 
hard  to  beat.  I  had  good  nuff  'pinion  of  her;  but  dern  my 
eyes,  somehow  she  never  had  a  good  'pinion  of  me." 

In  travelling  about  the  big,  open  State  of  Texas,  getting  in 
formation  concerning  the  cattle  and  sheep  industries,  I  came 
across  odd  Western  characters.  General  Peers,  a  grave,  digni 
fied,  gray-bearded  gentleman,  the  proprietor  of  The  House  of 
Peers  at  Fort  Worth,  possessed  an  imagination  commensurate 
with  the  size  of  his  State — that  is,  vast,  if  not  limitless. 

"  It  is  not  generally  known,"  said  this  gifted  general,  when 
I  stopped  at  his  hotel,  "  that  I  am  the  best  Greek  scholar  in 
America ;  such,  though,  is  the  case.  On  the  occasion  of  my 


102  THE    TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

first  trip  to  England  I  was  the  recipient  of  distinguished  hon 
ors.  The  London  Times  gave  me  a  long  editorial  notice,  and 
a  committee  of  Parliament,  headed  by  Lord  Palmerston,  came 
down  to  Liverpool  to  invite  me  to  deliver  my  famous  lecture 
on  the  Greek  compounds.  I  had  fled  from  America  to  escape 
the  solicitations  of  various  public  men  to  lecture,  and  at  first 
declined  to  speak  in  England.  An  autograph  letter  from  the 
Queen,  however,  shook  my  resolution,  and  one  night  I  stepped 
on  the  stage  in  Regent's  Hall  before  an  audience  of  five  thou 
sand  people.  To  my  right  sat  Queen  Victoria ;  to  my  left, 
Lord  Palmerston  and  the  Parliamentary  Committee.  As  I 
stepped  upon  the  rostrum  grave,  calm,  and  composed  as  I  am 
this  moment,  a  low  murmur  ran  through  the  immense  throng. 
I  could  hear  whispered  sneers  here  and  there.  '  A  fraud  !' 
came  from  the  right;  'An.  impostor !' came  from  the  left; 
'That  cannot  be  the  famous  General  Peers — he  is  too  young!' 
said  one  before  me.  I  heard  with  unruffled  composure.  I 
knew  how  soon  their  hisses  would  change  to  applause.  I  lift 
ed  my  arm,  and  quiet  was  restored ;  then  I  began  pouring  out 
a  stream  of  impassioned  eloquence  such  as  had  never  before 
been  heard  in  Regent's  Hall.  The  first  sentence,  hot  and  burn 
ing,  had  scarcely  fallen  from  my  lips  before  Lord  Palmerston 
sprang  to  his  feet,  clapped  his  hands,  and  exclaimed,  '  It  is  he ! 
It  is  the  great  Peers  of  America !'  That  lecture  was  the  sen 
sation  of  all  England.  I  was  compelled  to  repeat  it  sixteen 
consecutive  nights." 

"What  was  the  subject,  general?"  I  inquired. 

" '  Chi,  Phi,  and  Logos,"1  the  three  Greek  compounds.  It  was 
the  same  lecture  I  delivered  in  New  York  in  1846.  Daniel 
Webster  pronounced  it  the  finest  thing  he  ever  heard." 

"  Yours  must  have  been  a  remarkable  career,"  I  said,  after 
the  general  had  finished  telling  the  above  yarn  with  a  perfectly 
serious  face. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  modest  reply.  "  I  have  played  a  prominent 
part  in  my  day.  In  the  summer  of  1847  I  had  to  my  credit 
in  the  bank  at  Philadelphia  two  million  eight  hundred  thou- 


IN    TEXAS.  103 

sand  dollars.  That  year  I  gave  half  a  million  to  help  carry  on 
the  war  with  Mexico." 

"  What  has  become  of  your  wealth  ?" 

"  Lost  it  in  '63.  Jeff  Davis  appointed  me  chief  of  the  Con 
federate  spies.  It  was  I  who  prevented  Lee's  defeat  at  Gettys 
burg  from  being  a  complete  rout.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
third  day  I  saw  Hancock  preparing  for  a  desperate  charge.  I 
knew  Lee  was  severely  crippled,  and  determined,  if  possible,  to 
avert  the  danger.  I  happened  to  have  a  large  ripe  watermelon. 
Just  as  Hancock  was  about  to  give  his  order,  I  galloped  up, 
and  with  a  salute  cried  out, '  Stay,  general,  one  moment ;  there 
is  plenty  of  time.  Come,  eat  this  melon  with  me.'  Hancock 
hesitated,  but  yielded  to  my  persuasions,  and  we  went  to  a 
grassy  knoll  to  eat  the  melon.  It  was  large  and  luscious.  I  plied 
Hancock  freely.  When  at  last  he  attempted  to  rise,  he  was  so 
full  he  could  not  get  up.  '  Peers,'  he  said,  *  I  don't  believe  I  can 
make  the  charge  to-night.  We'll  wait  till  morning.'  During  the 
night  Lee  stole  away.  That  is  how  I  saved  his  army." 

General  Peers,  as  he  stated  to  me — and  who  can  doubt  his 
word  ? — is  of  an  old  English  stock,  dating  back  to  the  time  of 
Julius  Caesar;  the  upper  house  of  the  British  Parliament,  the 
House  of  Peers,  derives  its  name  from  an  ancestor  of  his,  a  Gen 
eral  Peers,  who  saved  England  from  subjugation  in  the  wars 
with  Spain  ! 

If  protectionists  had  to  cross  the  Mexican  frontier  a  few 
times  it  might  open  their  eyes  to  the  folly  of  so-called  protec 
tion.  They  would  see  men  armed  to  the  teeth  patrolling  both 
sides  of  the  Rio  Grande,  arresting  men  and  women  on  the 
slightest  suspicion  of  smuggling.  On  the  Texas  side  the  cus 
toms-officer  stays  in  a  skiff  near  the  ferry  landing,  closely  watch 
ing  every  one  who  crosses.  If  your  clothing  bulges  out  a  little, 
if  a  woman  wears  a  fashionable  bustle,  he  or  she  is  seized  and 
searched  as  a  criminal. 

While  sitting  with  the  customs-officer  in  his  skiff  at  Laredo, 
one  day,  an  innocent-looking  Mexican  came  ashore,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  climb  up  the  hill  to  the  town. 


104  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"  Take  off  your  hat !"  commanded  the  officer.  The  Mexican 
obeyed  ;  the  officer  looked  closely,  and  finding  nothing  dutia 
ble,  let  the  man  pass  on.  Presently  another  Mexican  came 
along.  The  officer  halted  him. 

"  Why  do  you  suspect  him  ?"  I  asked. 

"Wait  and  see,"  replied  the  customs-man,  then  ordered  the 
Mexican  to  take  off  his  hat.  I  noticed  then  that  this  man 
wore  a  larger  hat  than  the  first.  The  poor  Mexican  shook 
with  fear  and  confusion.  Under  the  top  hat  was  another  hat. 

"  Come,  take  that  off  too  !" 

He  did  so,  revealing  still  another  hat.  This  also  was  taken 
off,  disclosing  still  another,  and  so  on  until  in  all  five  hats  were 
removed  from  the  Mexican's  head.  They  had  been  made  to 
fit  the  one  so  snugly  over  the  other  that  an  unpractised  eye 
would  never  have  suspected  the  fraud.  A  Mexican  hat  is  worth 
all  the  way  from  twenty  to  fifty  dollars,  and  the  duty  is  fifty 
per  cent. ;  the  smuggler,  therefore,  lost  a  good  round  sum  by 
being  detected  in  his  Little  operation.  The  only  way  a  Mexi 
can  in  Texas  can  get  one  of  his  beloved  sombreros  without 
paying  duty  is  to  cross  the  river  bareheaded.  Then,  when  he 
recrosses  with  only  one  hat  on  his  head,  he  is  suffered  to  go  his 
way  in  peace. 

To  take  a  fancy  fan  into  Mexico  costs  $2.20,  without  regard 
to  its  actual  value,  as  long  as  it  comes  under  the  head  of  a 
"fancy"  fan.  A  wagon  worth  $65  in  the  United  States  costs 
in  Mexico  $145.  The  tariff  on  each  wheel  is  $20.  It  is  per 
haps  only  through  an  oversight  that  the  fifth  wheel  is  not  also 
taxed. 

Nuevo  Laredo,  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  river,  is  a  wretch 
ed  little  town  of  seven  thousand  people,  the  scum  of  both 
Mexico  and  the  United  States.  The  streets  and  houses  are 
dirty  and  squalid.  The  post-office  does  not  do  as  much  busi 
ness  as  an  American  post-office  in  a  cross-roads  village.  The 
reason  is  this :  in  Mexico  internal  postage  costs  twenty-five 
cents.  The  Nuevo  Laredo  merchant  crosses  the  river,  buys  an 
American  five-cent  stamp,  and  sends  his  letter  back  to  Mexico 


IX   TEXAS.  105 

from  the  United  States,  thus  saving  twenty  cents.  It  is  cheaper 
to  send  a  letter  ten  thousand  miles  to  Africa  or  Europe,  than 
to  send  it  ten  miles  from  one  point  to  another  in  Mexico.  To 
send  a  postal  card  from  Monterey  to  Nuevo  Laredo  costs  twen 
ty-five  cents ;  to  send  it  a  mile  farther  across  the  river  costs 
only  three  cents.  You  d,on't  ask  for  letters  at  the  post-office. 
Every  day  a  list  is  made  of  all  letters  received.  You  look  over 
this  list.  If  your  name  does  not  appear  on  it  you  know  there 
are  no  letters  for  you.  The  amount  of  mail  is  so  small,  and 
the  people  have  so  much  time  at  their  disposal,  this  method 
seems  to  give  perfect  satisfaction. 

The  average  Mexican  of  to-day  is  about  as  far  advanced  as 
our  grandfathers  were  in  the  days  before  steam  and  electricity. 
Modern  civilization,  however,  is  overtaking  them  at  last.  The 
Mexican  Central  Railroad  is  the  entering  wedge  that  is  causing 
our  Southern  neighbor  to  awake  from  his  long  siesta.  The  line 
runs  from  El  Paso  to  the  City  of  Mexico.  For  seven  hundred 
miles  there  are  level  plains,  then  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
of  mountains,  followed  by  a  cultivated  valley  two  hundred 
miles  in  length,  thickly  settled,  and  blooming  like  a  garden. 
Another  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  winding  around  hills, 
through  fertile  valleys  and  picturesque  landscapes,  brings  the 
traveller  into  the  capital  of  the  Mexican  republic,  7400  feet 
above  the  sea.  No  especially  difficult  engineering  feats  present 
ed  themselves  in  the  entire  length  of  the  road,  though  trouble 
was  encountered  in  the  valley  of  Mexico,  a  broad,  flat  plain,  in 
tersected  by  numerous  irrigating  canals  and  ditches.  The  irri 
gating  canals  are  artificial  structures,  raised  above  the  general 
level  so  that  the  water  can  be  drawn  out  upon  the  fields.  These 
raised  canals  necessitated  the  railroad's  building  an  extraordi 
nary  number  of  bridges,  with  heavy  abutments  and  culverts  to 
support  the  track. 

Labor  in  Mexico  is  miserably  paid.     For  a  claco  (one  and 

an  eighth  cents)  a  boy  will  run  on  an  errand  half  a  day.     For 

a  real  (about  thirteen  cents)  a  man  can  be  hired  for  a  day. 

The  soldiers  of  the  republic  receive  $9  a  month,  out  of  which 

5* 


106  THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

they  must  feed  and  clothe  themselves.  In  the  old  Bishop's 
Palace,  on  a  lofty  eminence  just  outside  of  Monterey,  are 
quartered  a  detachment  of  soldiers.  They  sleep  on  the  rough 
cobble  pavement  of  the  court  in  their  ragged  linen  uniforms. 
A  large  part  of  the  army  is  composed  of  condemned  criminals, 
who  are  not  intrusted  with  ammunition  except  when  actually 
facing  an  enemy.  Then,  it  is  said,  their  bravery  is  quite  equal 
to  that  of  the  "free"  soldiers,  who  are  not  degraded.  When 
Monterey  capitulated,  in  1846.  the  American  officers  made  their 
headquarters  where  are  now  quartered  the  squalid  Mexican  sol 
diers.  Jefferson  Davis  slept  beneath  the  palace  roof,  and  his 
name,  as  well  as  that  of  General  Taylor,  may  still  be  seen 
where  they  were  scratched  on  the  wall  of  the  dome  forty  years 


LABOR    STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  107 


CHAPTER  X. 

LABOR    STRIKES  AND    UNIONS. 

THEIR  EDUCATIONAL  EFFECT.  —  GREAT  INTEREST  TAKEN  BY  WORK 
ING-PEOPLE  IN  ECONOMIC  QUESTIONS.  —  FALLACIES.-— MR.  POW- 
DERLY  AND  THE  BEER  BOTTLES.  —  THE  HILLS  AND  HOLLOWS  OF 
KANSAS  CITY.  —  WHY  "TREATING"  FOSTERS  DRUNKENNESS  AND 
RUINS  WORKING-MEN. —  INTERVIEWS  WITH  ST.  LOUIS  LABORERS. 

"  POOLED  capital  and  syndicate  capital,"  says  the  New  York 
Herald,  "  are  hornets'  stings,  where  labor  strikes  are  only  flea- 
bites." 

Millionaire  employers  combine  to  keep  up  the  prices  of  their 
wares,  and  to  keep  down  the  wages  of  working-men.  It  is  nat 
ural  that  working-men  should  combine,  and  attempt  by  strikes 
to  keep  up  wages.  Do  labor  combinations  effect  this?  An 
investigation  of  the  strikes  of  the  past  five  years  leads  me  to 
the  conclusion  that  although  the  first,  the  superficial,  effect  of 
strikes  is  often  harmful,  often  disastrous  to  the  strikers,  still, 
the  laboring  class,  as  a  class,  is  benefited.  No  matter  how 
much  the  strikers  may  suffer,  the  evil  result  is  not  all  evil. 

In  his  autobiography,  written  before  the  flash  of  lightning 
from  the  clash  of  swords  during  the  war  melted  the  manacles 
from  the  slave  negroes,  Fred  Douglass  said  that  if  every  slave 
would  resist  every  attempt  to  flog  him — would,  at  the  first  sight 
of  the  whip,  fight,  fight,  fight,  and  never  tamely  submit  to  blows, 
masters  would  think  twice  before  attempting  to  flog.  Men  will 
more  often  punish  the  submissive  than  the  resisting.  Douglass 
himself  acted  on  this  principle ;  and  although  for  resisting 
he  was  at  the  time  more  severely  punished,  his  masters  were 
less  ready  to  punish,  and  the  last  years  of  his  slave  life  were 
free  from  floggings. 

The  same  principle  will  apply  to  wage-workers.     The  em- 


108  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

ployer  who  is  put  to  great  loss  and  inconvenience  by  strikes 
will  hesitate  before  provoking  them  by  a  reduction  of  wages  or 
a  refusal  of  reasonable  demands.  All  history  proves  that  it  is 
human  nature  to  oppress  the  tamely  submissive;  all  history 
proves  that  every  freedom  men  possess  has  been  forcibly  wrest 
ed  from  rulers,  whether  moneyed,  political,  or  religious.  His 
tory  affords  no  instance  of  any  ruling  class  voluntarily  loosen 
ing  its  grip  on  any  class  it  controls.  For  the  last  sixty  years 
we  have  been  educating  the  laboring  class.  They  are  corning 
to  know  their  power,  their  strength.  A  deep  dissatisfaction 
pervades  their  breasts ;  they  have  come  to  know  that  they  are 
the  very  underlying  supporters  of  civilization,  the  very  pillars 
on  which  the  body  politic  rests.  Lawyers,  preachers,  doctors, 
artists,  journalists,  all  might  go,  and  families  would  still  live, 
homes  would  exist,  houses  be  built,  food  grown  from  the  soil, 
the  race  carried  on  ;  but  should  what  is  called  the  laboring 
classes  cease  their  labors,  the  world  would  collapse,  and  the 
general  fabric  of  society  fall  to  pieces. 

The  strike  in  B's  factory  may  be  directly  a  failure ;  the 
strikers  may  be  forced  to  yield  to  the  reduction,  or  to  give  up 
their  demands ;  nevertheless,  there  is  a  loss  to  B  which  A  sees, 
and  to  escape  a  similar  loss  A  will  think  twice  before  refusing- 
reasonable  requests.  Employers  will  hesitate  to  oppress  when 
oppression  is  followed  by  heavy  loss.  It  must  be  said,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  strikes  cause  serious  indirect  damage  to  work 
ing-men.  For  instance,  the  great  strike  on  the  Western  rail 
ways  was  investigated,  with  this  result :  cause,  the  alleged  un 
just  discharge  of  an  employe ;  effect,  ten  thousand  men  made 
idle,  and  three  million  dollars  lost  in  wages. 

Such  were  the  facts  as  they  lay  on  the  surface ;  in  reality 
they  tell  less  than  half  the  tale.  A  large  percentage  of  the 
strikes  and  shut-downs  occurring  in  the  West  at  that  time 
originated,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  in  the  railroad  strikes. 
A  knitting  factory  in  St.  Louis,  with  a  pay-roll  of  $200  a  day, 
was  closed  because  the  roads  could  not  carry  its  goods.  A 
shoe  factory  employing  one  hundred  and  fifty  girls  shut  down 


LABOR   STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  109 

from  the  same  cause.  In  country  towns  shops  could  not  get 
goods,  and  so  had  to  close,  or  cut  down  the  number  of  their 
employes.  It  would  not  be  extravagant  to  estimate  the  indi 
rect  damage  thus  effected  at  three  or  four  times  the  direct 
amount  that  was  reported. 

The  case  of  a  railroad  strike  may  be  considered  exceptional. 
Possibly  it  is  in  degree,  but  it  is  not  in  kind.  The  public  have 
closer  relations  with  railroads  than  with  individuals;  still,  they 
are  connected  with  the  latter.  A  St.  Louis  or  New  York  mer 
chant  has  interests  in  the  farthest  corners  of  the  earth.  He 
feels  the  effects  of  a  failure  in  Hong-Kong;  a  failure  in  St. 
Louis  or  New  York  is  often  tantamount  to  a  failure  of  his  own 
interests.  Thus  the  builders'  strike  in  Chicago,  while  it  directly 
affected  only  a  few  thousand  carpenters  and  bricklayers,  indi 
rectly  affected  thousands  of  others.  Small  shopkeepers,  sup 
ported  wholly  or  in  part  by  the  trade  of  the  stone-masons,  lost 
that  trade,  and  were  compelled  to  discharge  employes.  Owners 
of  houses,  seeing  building  at  a  stand-still,  recalled  orders  for 
household  goods;  thus  rendering  furniture-makers,  stove-deal 
ers,  etc.,  idle.  Teamsters  had  no  brick  to  haul.  In  a  hundred 
branches  of  industry,  people  seemingly  not  in  the  least  con 
nected  with  carpenters  and  bricklayers  were  affected  and  in 
jured  by  that  strike.  A  friend  of  mine  who  had  quite  deter 
mined  to  build  a  home  changed  his  mind  and  took  a  trip  to 
Europe  instead.  He  thought  it  would  not  do  to  begin  a  house 
which  might  at  any  moment  be  left  half  finished  by  reason  of 
a  strike,  and  so  be  a  large  if  not  total  loss.  Of  course  the 
men  who  would  have  been  employed  building  that  house,  had 
not  the  purpose  of  building  been  given  up  on  account  of  the 
unsettled  condition  of  labor,  lost  as  much  as  though  they  had 
struck  themselves. 

Laboring  men  see  all  this.  They  see  that  in  a  number  of 
cases  the  effects  are  indirectly  as  well  as  directly  injurious. 
They  suffer  hunger,  cold,  every  privation,  for  the  principle  of 
unity,  the  principle  embodied  in  the  motto  of  the  Knights  of 
Labor,  "  The  concern  of  one  is  the  concern  of  all."  And  it  can 


110  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

hardly  be  doubted  that  working-men,  by  unions,  strikes,  and 
agitations,  have  somewhat  bettered  their  condition.  Forty  years 
ago  twelve  hours  was  a  day's  work.  A  day's  work  has  been  re 
duced  to  ten  hours.  The  agitation  to  further  reduce  it  to  eight 
may  not  succeed  at  once,  but  who  can  say  it  will  not  eventually? 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  every  lodge  of  the  Knights  of 
Labor  is  an  educational  school,  in  which  every  question  of 
Governmental  policy,  of  political  economy,  is  discussed.  Agi 
tation  leads  to  progress ;  debates  pro  and  con  quicken  thought, 
and  let  in  light  on  the  human  brain.  In  all  matters  of  politi 
cal  economy  and  public  affairs  the  rough  tradesmen  of  to-day 
take  more  interest  and  give  more  thought  than  the  well-dressed 
merchants,  clerks,  or  even  the  average  lawyers,  preachers,  and 
doctors.  I  have  heard  day  laborers  who  could  not  write  a 
grammatical  sentence  discuss  social  and  political  questions,  and 
I  have  seen  their  hearers  of  the  same  class  listen  with  the  deep 
est  interest.  This  is  going  on  now  in  every  city  of  the  Union, 
while  the  so-called  better  classes  are  content  to  attend  society 
hops,  operas,  theatres,  and  clubs.  Take  the  average  society  man, 
the  average  clerk,  book-keeper,  or  merchant,  and  I  venture  to  say 
that  his  understanding  of  the  tariff  question,  of  Henry  George's 
land  theory,  and  other  important  economical  subjects,  will  not 
equal  the  understanding  which  the  better  informed  of  the 
laboring  class  have  attained  on  those  subjects.  The  former  are 
content  with  existing  customs  and  institutions.  The  latter  are 
deeply  discontented.  Discontent  leads  to  agitation  ;  agitation 
and  discussion,  like  strokes  on  the  anvil,  elicit  sparks  of  light. 
It  is  too  much  the  custom  of  those  who  look  at  only  the  present 
evil  resulting  from  working-men's  unions  to  decry  and  discour 
age  such  unions.  Humanitarians,  who  look  deeper  and  further, 
will  the  rather  endeavor  to  lend  all  the  aid  they  can  to  these 
educational  movements,  to  supply  them  with  the  most  enlight 
ened  and  broad-minded  speakers.  Such  leaders  are  needed ; 
for  while  many  of  their  present  speakers  are  able,  thoughtful 
men,  others  are  yet  deeply  ignorant  of  economic  questions,  as 
well  as  of  the  true  business  of  government. 


LABOR   STRIKES   AND    UNIONS.  Ill 

I  was  once  waited  on  in  an  Indiana  town  by  a  committee  of 
working-men,  who  desired  rne  to  la)7  before  Congress  a  bill  to 
prohibit  skilled  labor,  when  on  a  strike,  from  doing  unskilled 
labor.  Fifty-two  skilled  men  had  struck  for  an  advance  from 
five  dollars  to  six  dollars  a  day,  and  during  the  strike  had 
planted  telegraph  poles  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  day.  This 
brought  them  into  competition  with  the  regular  unskilled  labor 
of  the  town,  who,  being  deeply  ignorant  of  the  proper  functions 
of  government,  made  the  extraordinary  proposition  noted  above. 

The  head  of  the  Knights  of  Labor,  Mr.  Powderly,  told  an 
audience  that  people  should  break  their  soda-bottles  after  once 
using  them,  in  order  that  bottle-makers  might  be  kept  busy. 
Carry  this  destructive  idea  a  little  further,  and  men  might  cut 
up  their  furniture  to  encourage  the  furniture  trade,  or  smash 
the  glass  in  their  windows  to  help  glaziers,  or  burn  barns  to 
help  carpenters,  and  so  on.  Mr.  Powderly  is  a  man  of  great 
intelligence,  but  he  and  his  followers  certainly  need  education 
on  economic  questions.  The  tariff  lords  and  monopolists  have 
imbued  them  with  their  fallacies,  and  Mr.  Powderly,  like  Henry 
Clay,  is  blinding  and  befogging  the  minds  of  his  followers. 

Another  example  of  the  ignorance  of  some  working-men  on 
economic  questions  occurred  in  Kansas  City,  where  I  was  grave 
ly  assured  that  the  hills  and  hollows  were  the  making  of  the 
place.  Immense  capital  had  to  be  expended  in  cutting  down 
the  hills  and  in  filling  up  the  hollows.  This  gave  employment 
to  teamsters  and  diggers,  who,  in  turn,  supported  butchers  and 
bakers,  thus  building  up  the  city.  I  suggested  that  had  there 
been  no  holes  the  capital  expended  in  overcoming  natural  ob 
stacles  would  have  been  free  to  put  up,  for  instance,  a  shoe  fac 
tory,  with  a  result  of  supporting  just  as  many  laborers,  and,  in 
addition,  producing  a  million  pair  of  shoes. 

"Prove  to  us,"  said  the  working-men,  "that  the  capitalist 
would  build  a  shoe  factory,  that  he  would  not  keep  his  money 
in  a  stocking.  The  hills  are  here  ;  they  must  be  cut  down,  and 
so  are  obliged  to  give  us  work.  Therefore  the  hills  are  at  the 
bottom  of  our  prosperity." 


112  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

I  suggested  that  they  might  go  farther  west  on  top  of  a 
mountain  and  start  a  city;  that  the  work  of  blasting  out  a 
mountain  would  be  much  greater  than  cutting  down  hills, 
and  that  therefore  the  city  on  the  mountain  ought  to  be  much 
more  prosperous,  as  it  would  require  more  labor  and  more 
laborers.* 

At  a  labor  meeting  where  a  speaker  railed  an  hour  at  the 
injustice,  the  crime,  of  interest,  I  ventured  to  ask  whether,  if  I 
should  make  a  reaper  to  cut  my  grain,  a  stranger  could  reason 
ably  expect  me  to  give  up  cutting  my  grain  and  lend  him  the 
reaper  to  cut  his  grain.  The  orator  answered  no,  that  the  stran 
ger  could  not  expect  that.  Then  I  asked  whether  if  I  loaned, 
not  the  reaper,  but  money  with  which  to  buy  a  reaper,  I  was 
not  still  entitled  to  expect  something — interest — in  return  for 
my  self-denial.  The  orator  could  not  see  this  point  at  all,  but 
insisted  that  it  was  robbery  to  lend  a  thousand  dollars,  and 
demand  at  the  end  of  a  year  a  cent  more  than  the  original 
one  thousand  dollars. 

Many  California  working-men  are  opposed  to  immigration. 
In  "pioneer"  times  laborers  earned  ten  dollars  a  day.  Immi 
gration  brought  competition,  and  now  wages  are  only  three  or 
four  dollars  a  day.  Why  wish  more  population,  and  so,  of 
course,  more  competition  and  further  lowering  of  wages?  I 
pointed  out  that  in  pioneer  times  a  night's  lodging  cost  five 
dollars ;  that  a  pair  of  shoes  cost  ten  dollars ;  that,  in  short, 
ten  dollars  in  pioneer  times  could  not  buy  as  much  as  four 
dollars  can  buy  now.  I  also  suggested  that  if  immigrants  came, 
and  converted  into  orchards  and  wheat-fields  what  are  now 
sand-hills,  employment  would  be  given  to  men  to  transport 

*  It  is  but  justice  to  the  Kansas  City  working-men  to  state  that  they  are 
not  alone  in  holding  this  absurd  notion  that  their  city's  prosperity  is  partly 
due  to  the  hills  that  have  to  be  dug  away,  T\vo  of  the  most  prominent 
lawyers  in  Kansas  City,  when  I  mentioned  the  subject,  declared  that  the 
working-men  were  right — that  the  city  would  not  be  half  so  populous  and 
prosperous  but  for  the  natural  obstacles  that  required  hosts  of  men  to 
overcome. 


LABOR    STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  113 

crops  from  those  orchards  and  fields.  More  roads  would  be 
built,  miners  would  be  employed  digging  iron  ore  and  foun- 
dery-men  would  be  employed  making  tools  and  rails  to  build 
those  roads ;  in  short,  society  at  large  would  be  enriched  and 
benefited.  Truth  makes  slow  advancement  among  those  taught 
the  false  and  foolish  doctrine  that  smashing  bottles,  breaking 
furniture,  and  the  like,  are  beneficial  to  working-men,  because 
more  bottles  and  more  furniture  must  be  made.  Large  num 
bers  of  men  in  California  are  still  befogged  by  these  errors,  and 
have  actually  formed  a  political  party  pledged  to  oppose  the 
further  transformation  of  sand-hills  into  gardens,  or,  as  they 
express  it,  to  keep  out  further  immigration.  Of  course  this 
party  retards  the  prosperity  of  the  State  and  of  society  just 
in  proportion  as  its  efforts  are  successful.* 

Another  sentiment  widely  prevalent  among  laboring  men  is 
the  belief  that  the  Government  is  entirely  run  by  and  for  the 
wealthy,  not  the  working,  class.  They  point  to  the  fact  that 
only  rich  men,  or  the  friends  of  rich  men,  get  high  Govern 
ment  places;  that  millionaires  fill  the  Senate;  that  the  great 
body  of  working-people  receive  no  consideration  from  high 
officials.  In  the  by-laws  of  a  labor  union  containing  several 
thousand  members  occur  these  sentences: 

"The  Government,  which  should  interfere  to  protect  the  poor,  has  been 
grabbed  by  the  wealthy  monopolist,  and  is  used  simply  as  a  machine  to 
still  further  steal  the  earnings  of  labor.  Under  these  circumstances, 
workers  have  no  resource  except  to  combine  and  make  a  fight  to  the  bit 
ter  end.  Stick  to  your  unions  through  thick  and  thin." 


*  In  one  sense — a  very  narrow  one — the  California  working-men  are 
right.  As  long  as  the  greater  portion  of  the  land  of  the  Golden  State  is 
monopolized  and  held  at  exorbitant  speculative  figures,  immigrants  will 
not  convert  sand-fields  into  orchards,  but  will  crowd  into  the  towns  and 
cities,  where  already  exists  keen  competition.  But  instead  of  forming  po 
litical  parties  to  keep  immigrants  out,  the  working-men  of  California 
should  do  away  with  the  land-grabbers,  and  make  it  possible  for  new 
comers  to  become  wealth-producing  farmers  instead  of  city  loafers.  See 
Chapter  XV.  for  an  expansion  of  this  idea, 


114  THE    TKAMP    AT   HOME. 

The  idea  here  contained  is  that  Government  is  something 
separate  and  apart  from  working  men  and  women.  They  for 
get  that  if  Government  is  run  by  wealthy  monopolists  the  fault 
lies  with  the  great  body  of  the  people.  Water  cannot  rise 
above  its  source,  neither  can  Government.  When  a  man  can 
stand  on  the  floor  of  a  State  Senate,  as  a  man  did  in  California, 
and  boldly  declare  that  his  constituents  are  the  railroads,  that  he 
is  there  to  serve  the  interests  of  the  railroads,  not  the  people — 
when  a  man  can  do  this,  and  not  be  ostracized  and  politically 
damned,  it  indicates  either  intense  indolence  or  dense  igno 
rance  on  the  part  of  the  great  body  of  the  people.  On  the  gal 
lery  of  the  Hotel  del  Monte,  in  Monterey,  California,  I  over 
heard  a  conversation  between  a  lady  and  a  gentleman. 

"  I  have  married  since  you  knew  me,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Who  is  your  husband  ?" 

"  You  know  him,"  was  the  reply.  "  Who  was  the  biggest 
thief  in  the  Star  Route  trials  ?" 

"  Surely  you  are  not  Mrs. ?"  exclaimed  the  gentleman. 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  the  lady, "  I  made  a  mistake.  I  meant 
who  was  next  to  the  biggest  thief." 

"Ah!"  responded  the  gentleman,  "your  husband  must  be 
Mr. ." 

"Right,"  said  the  lady,  and  serenely  continued  the  conver-, 
sation. 

A  state  of  things  that  allows  a  wife  to  thus  complacently 
refer  to  her  husband  as  a  thief  is  very  nearly  as  corrupt  as  the 
corrupt  period  in  English  history  when  women  were  proud  to 
be  known  as  the  King's  mistresses,  and  women's  male  relatives 
were  not  ashamed  to  profit  by  mothers',  wives',  and  sisters' 
dishonor. 

The  obligation  taken  by  the  members  of  some  unions  reads 
thus: 

"  I  pledge  my  honor  as  a  man  that  I  will  be  faithful  to  the  union  until 
death,  and  that  I  will  obey  ALL  orders  of  the  union.  I  promise  that  I  will 
never  reveal  the  proceedings  of  the  union.  If  I  break  this  promise  I  ask 
every  brother  here  to  treat  me  as  a  rascal,  so  help  me  God." 


LABOR    STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  115 

In  the  book  of  by-laws  of  a  Sau  Francisco  union  occurs  this : 

UA  working-man  who  refuses  to  join  the  union  is  a  veritable  rascal. 
It  taints  honest  men  to  be  seen  even  speaking  to  him." 

The  sentiment  contained  in  the  above  paragraphs — a  senti 
ment  which  I  regard  as  foreign  to  the  true  spirit  of  labor 
unions — exercises  a  most  despotic  force.  It  not  only  tends  to 
destroy  all  individuality,  all  personal  freedom,  but  actually 
tends  to  promote  dishonesty  and  untruth.  Men  pledged  to 
"obey  all  orders"  of  a  union  are  irresponsible  and  unreliable, 
and  men  who  think  that  those  who  do  not  believe  as  they  do 
and  join  their  unions  are  "  veritable  rascals  with  whom  it  is  a 
disgrace  to  speak,"  are  intolerant  bigots.  I  have  investigated 
many  strikes  where  the  men  had  promised  their  employers  that 
they  would  not  strike  without  twenty-four  hours'  notice,  and  yet, 
without  a  minute's  warning,  when  their  union  ordered  them, 
they  struck,  bringing  to  their  employers  great  loss,  and  in  some 
cases  absolute  ruin.  The  cooks  and  waiters  in  the  San  Fran 
cisco  restaurants  had  no  fault  to  find  with  their  employers ; 
they  were  perfectly  satisfied ;  but  when  the  bakers'  men  struck 
the  cooks  and  waiters  walked  out  without  a  moment's  notice, 
in  order,  as  they  said,  to  cause  the  restaurant  owners  to  use 
their  influence  with  the  bakers  to  settle  the  claims  of  the 
bakers'  men.  When  asked  why  they  did  not  give  the  twenty- 
four  hours'  warning  they  had  promised,  the  cooks  and  waiters 
had  nothing  to  say  except  that  they  had  to  obey  orders  from 
the  union. 

The  condition  of  working-men  is  indeed  perplexing.  Wiser 
and  more  cultured  people  in  the  same  position  would  hardly 
be  able  to  steer  safely  through  the  narrow  straits  they  are 
called  on  to  cross.  They  are  hounded  and  hooted  at  as  traitors 
to  their  fellows,  and  called  by  the  disgraceful  name  of  "  scabs," 
if  they  refuse  to  join  the  union  ;  and  after  joining,  and  taking 
the  iron-clad  oath  to  "  obey  all  orders,"  they  are  virtually  driven 
to  deception  by  employers  who  refuse  to  give  them  work  if 
known  to  be  union  men,  One  important  fact,  however,  labor- 


116  THE    TRAMP    AT    1IOME. 

ing  men  must  consider :  if  it  once  becomes  thoroughly  estab 
lished  that  a  "  union  "  man  does  not  regard  the  sacredness  of 
a  contract,  or  that  he  feels  that  he  may  break  a  contract  with 
honor  if  ordered  by  his  union,  the  union  idea  will  receive  a 
severer  blow  than  could  be  given  it  in  any  other  way.  In  the 
instance  referred  to,  the  union  of  cooks  and  waiters  on  the 
Pacific  coast  was  destroyed  by  the  action  of  the  men  in  the 
San  Francisco  strike.  The  restaurant  employers  very  justly 
declared  that  they  would  no  longer  employ  men  who,  however 
liberally  and  kindly  treated,  were  yet  liable  at  any  moment  to 
strike,  and  cause  loss  and  perhaps  ruin. 

A  witness  who  admitted  to  the  commission  inquiring  into 
the  condition  of  labor  that  he  did  try  to  persuade  "  scabs  "  to 
join  his  union,  in  answer  to  the  question  whether  his  per 
suasion  was  with  a  club,  made  no  reply.  None  was  necessary ; 
there  was  another  witness  in  the  room  at  the  very  same  time 
whose  arm  was  broken  and  eye  gouged  out  by  an  enthusiastic 
union  man  who  believed  that  a  "  man  who  refused  to  join  the 
union  was  a  veritable  rascal." 

Not  infrequently  I  came  across  men  who  chafed  at  the  strict 
rule  of  their  unions.  Said  a  member  of  a  typographical  union, 

"  Talk  of  the  despotism  of  the  Czar !  it  is  not  a  circumstance 
to  that  of  our  unions.  Do  you  know,  I  dare  not  go  where  I 
please.  I  dare  not  ride  on  certain  street-cars,  or  read  certain 
papers." 

"  What  is  to  prevent  you  ?" 

"  The  union.  If  I  were  to  disobey  a  boycott,  I  would  get  a 
brick  in  my  hat  and  a  black  eye." 

"  If  you  are  not  satisfied,  why  do  you  stay  in  the  union  ?" 

"Because  otherwise  I  would  be  boycotted  myself.  To  illus 
trate  :  My  friend  Jim,  who  does  not  stand  as  well  with  the 
union  as  I,  got  to  the  office  ahead  of  me  this  morning,  but  he 
didn't  get  the  work;  the  foreman  saved  it  for  me.  When  any 
body  is  idle  it  is  always  Jim.  lie  complained  to  the  walking 
delegate.  The  matter  was  looked  into,  and  it  was  decided  that 
he  was  discriminated  against.  Did  that  help  Jim  ?  Not  at  all. 


LABOR   STRIKES   AND    UNIONS.  117 

The  foreman  agreed  to  rectify  the  matter.  He  gave  Jim  copy, 
but  at  the  same  time  passed  the  word  around  that  Jim  was  not 
to  be  spoken  to.  I  always  liked  Jim,  but  what  can  I  do?  If 
I  don't  stop  going  with  him  I  will  be  told  that  work  is  dull — 
'  no  copy  to-day ;'  and  I  would  be  given  ample  leisure  to  study 
and  decide  that  Jim  was  npt  the  man  to  associate  with.  One 
of  the  union  rules  is  that  in  every  office  employing  three  or 
more  printers  a  'chairman'  shall  be  elected,  whose  business  it 
is  to  settle  all  disputes.  In  our  office  there  are  forty  men. 
Each  has  to  pay  five  cents  a  week  to  the  chairman.  He  draws 
his  two  dollars  from  us,  and  in  return,  when  a  man  gets  in  bad 
odor  with  the  union,  he  uses  his  position  to  keep  the  offending 
member  from  getting  work.  Our  chairman,  who  is  not  content 
with  the  extra  two  dollars  a  week  he  draws  from  us,  runs  a 
kind  of  second-rate  bar,  which  we  are  expected  to  patronize. 
He  gets  a  large  bucket  of  beer  at  noon,  and  at  dinner-time  sells 
us  beer  at  five  cents  a  glass.  At  first  I  did  not  drink  any. 
Then  one  day  the  chairman  said, 

"  '  What's  the  matter  you  don't  patronize  the  bar?' 

"  '  I  don't  care  for  beer.' 

"  '  You  don't  care  for  beer !  Well  you  ought  to — that's  all 
I've  got  to  say.' 

"  I  noticed  after  that  that  copy  on  my  hook  was  scarce.  My 
wages  fell  to  five  dollars  a  week.  I  patronize  the  'bar'  now, 
and  make,  as  before,  my  eighteen  and  nineteen  dollars  a  week. 
The  workman  who  will  not  join  any  union  is  hooted  and  de 
rided  as  a  'scab.'  In  the  unions  he  has  no  more  individuality 
than  a  private  soldier  in  a  large  army.  He  is  absolutely  at  the 
mercy  of  walking  delegates,  grand  master-workmen,  and  the 
like." 

The  enemy  to  working-men  even  more  dangerous  than  dis 
honest  politicians,  more  debasing  than  obedience  to  arbitrary 
unions,  is  strong  drink.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  working- 
men  drink  more  than  the  wealthier  classes,  but  that  working- 
men  are  more  impoverished  by  drink.  European  working-men 
drink  perhaps  more  universally  than  American  laborers,  but  not 


118  THE   TKAMP    AT   HOME. 

as  much,  owing  to  two  causes:  first,  because  the  "treating" 
custom  does  not  prevail  in  Europe;  secondly,  because  on  the 
continent  of  Europe  wages  are  too  small  to  permit  copious 
drinking. 

The  system  of  treating  fosters  and  feeds  the  habit  of  drink 
ing.  One  man  treats,  the  treat  must  be  returned,  and  so  it 
goes  until  the  largest  part  of  the  working-man's  wages  is  left 
with  the  saloon-men.  AVith  the  exception  of  German  student 
kneipers,  a  man  in  Germany  will  no  more  think  of  offering  to 
"  treat "  his  companion  to  beer  than  he  would  to  a  loaf  of 
bread.  In  all  my  pedestrian  tour  over  Italy  and  Germany  I 
saw  few  men  staggering  or  dead-drunk.  In  America,  where 
treating  is  the  universal  custom,  we  see  cases  of  staggering 
drunkenness  every  day. 

In  East  St.  Louis  I  called  on  Mr.  D.  C.  M ,  a  bar  mill 

roller  in  the  Tudor  Iron-works.  Mr.  M earns  $8.13  a  day, 

the  highest  wages  paid  in  the  mills.  Guide  mill  rollers  make 
$6.50  a  day. 

"Notwithstanding  their  high  wages,"  said  Mr.  M ,  "it  is 

an  exception  to  find  any  of  these  men  who  save  enough  to  own 
their  own  homes.  They  fancy  they  cannot  get  along  without 
strong  drink.  I  know  guide  mill  rollers  who  spend  as  much  as 
ten  dollars  a  week  in  saloons.  They  get  to  treating,  and  the 
money  flies.  This  is  bad ;  but  the  worst  part  is  that  these 
drinking- men  soon  become  unable  to  stand  the  hard  work. 
The  temperance  men  last  much  longer.  It  is  a  bad  delusion 
for  an  iron-worker  to  fancy  that  drink  strengthens  him.  The 
work  is  hard,  but  neither  beer  nor  whiskey  makes  it  any  easier." 

Mr.  M ,  who  practised  the  temperance  he  preached,  owned 

a  comfortable  double  tenement -house,  one  side  of  which  he 
rented  out  for  $1 7  a  month ;  the  other  side  he  occupied  with 
his  family.  The  parlor  was  nicely  carpeted  and  furnished;  the 
dining-room  was  heated  with  a  handsome  self-feeding  stove. 

When  I  called,  Mrs.  M ,  a  motherly  looking  woman,  was 

knitting. 

"  I  like  to  keep  busy,"  she  said,  "  even  if  Dave  does  make 


LABOR    STRIKES   AND    UNIOXS.  121 

enough  without  rny  working.  Too  many  women  I  know  try 
to  be  too  fine  ladies  to  do  anything.  I  don't  believe  in  that. 
I  like  to  help  on  all  I  can.  We  run  along  comfortably  and 
home-like,  and  when  anything  good  turns  up,  Dave  and  I  take 
the  children  out  and  have  a  nice  time.  We  took  all  our  fam 
ily  to  the  Centennial."  N 

In  the  Tudor  Iron-works  arc  three  hundred  and  thirty  men. 
One  bar  mill  roller  makes  $8.13  a  day;  three  guide  mill  roll 
ers  make  $6.50 ;  four  bar  mill  heaters  make  $7  ;  six  guide  mill 
heaters  make  $5.25  ;  six  puddlers  get  $4.66,  and  ten  puddler- 
helpers  $2.50.  Thirty  skilled,  iron -workers  average  $4.66  a 
day.  The  other  three  hundred  employes,  or  ninety  per  cent, 
of  the  entire  force,  earn  $1.75  a  day.  The  average  for  the 
whole,  therefore,  is  $2.01TW 

"  One  thing  to  be  remembered,"  said  Mr.  M ,  "  is  that 

though  our  wages  are  high  they  are  not  steady.  For  a  long 
time  four  months  a  year  was  considered  a  good  average.  Even 
now  the  average  does  not  exceed  six  months  in  the  year.  This 
is  because  with  the  least  degree  of  prosperity  so  many  rush  into 
the  business,  and  wages  fall." 

That  is,  the  protection  system  causes  business  to  flow  in  ar 
tificial  channels,  which  sooner  or  later  overflow,  hurting  the 
very  persons  supposed  to  be  benefited.  An  examination  of  the 
books  of  the  Tudor  Iron-works  showed  there  had  been  a  steady 
decrease  in  wages  since  1873.  The  figures  quoted  above  are 
for  1882,  since  which  a  further  decrease  of  ten  per  cent,  has 
been  made.  In  1882,  when  iron  was  worth  two  cents  a  pound, 
puddlers  received  $5.50  for  puddling  a  ton  of  2240  pounds, 
one-third  of  which  they  paid  to  their  helpers.  At  the  present 
time,  when  iron  is  at  two  cents  a  pound,  the  pay  for  puddling 
a  ton  is  only  $5,  half  a  dollar  less  than  the  schedule  price  in 
1882.  A  good  puddler  can  puddle  three  thousand  pounds  a 
day— $6.69  ;  deduct  one-third  ($2.23)  for  the  helper,  and  the 
net  wages  of  the  puddler  when  at  work  is  $4.46.  With  the 
increase  in  the  price  of  iron,  wages  also  increase,  going  up  as 
high  as  $7  when  iron  is  quoted  at  three  cents  a  pound. 
6 


122  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

Moulders  (another  class  of  iron-workers)  are  not  paid  as  well 
as  bar  mill  rollers.  Previous  to  1883,  moulders  averaged  $3 
a  day.  In  that  year  there  was  a  reduction  in  most  of  the 
founderies  to  $2.50.  The  men  struck.  The  manufacturers  sent 
to  Pittsburg,  Cincinnati,  and  other  cities  in  the  East,  engaged 
new  men,  paid  their  railroad  fare  to  the  West,  and  set  them  to 
work.  The  old  hands  jumped  on  the  imported  hands,  beat 
them,  and  then  paid  their  fare  back  East.  For  three  months 
this  war  continued;  then  the  strikers  gave  up  the  fight,  and 
since  the  summer  of  1883  have  worked  for  $2.50  a  day.  To 
learn  the  trade  of  iron-moulding  requires  at  least  nine  months, 
and  a  good  head  in  the  bargain.  As  a  rule,  iron-moulders  live 
in  neat,  comfortable  homes. 

"  There  are  four  in  our  family,"  said  Mr.  Peters,  a  moulder 
in  Kansas  City.  "  A  house  like  this  rents  for  twenty-five  dol 
lars  a  month.  I  manage  to  support  my  family  very  well.  The 
women  folks  do  all  the  house-work.  My  greatest  expense  is 
for  clothing,  moulding  is  so  hard  on  the  clothes.  The  next 
heavy  item  is  for  coal.  We  use  five  tons  of  soft  coal  (three 
dollars  a  ton)  and  two  tons  of  hard  coal  (ten  dollars  a  ton) 
during  the  winter.  Meat  is  cheap  in  Kansas  City.  Good  beef 
can  be  had  for  eight  cents  a  pound,  tenderloin  steak  for  thir 
teen  cents.  Ten  pounds  of  the  best  granulated  sugar  costs  one 
dollar.  Good  brown  sugar  costs  eight  cents  a  pound.  My  en 
tire  grocery  bill  amounts  to  from  five  to  six  dollars  a  week." 

These  figures,  tabulated,  appear  about  thus : 

Earnings,  300  days,  at  $2  60  a  day $750  00 

Expenses  : 

Two  work  suits $30  00 

One  Sunday  suit 25  00 

Other  clothing 20  00 

Total  clothing  for  husband $75  00 

Clothing  for  mother 50  00 

"         "    wife 50  00 

"         "    sister,  a  young  lady  in  society 100  00 

Total  yearly  cost  of  clothing  for  family  of  four  .  .  $275  00 


LABOR    STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  123 

Brought  forward $275  00 

Groceries 260  00 

Meats,  salt  and  fresh 52  00 

Doctor's  bills 50  00 

Incidentals  of  all  kinds,  including  taxes 60  00 

Total  yearly  cost  of  living  for  four  persons  in  Kansas  City,  $697  00 


The  balance  of  $53  forms  the  net  savings  of  a  thrifty  iron- 
moulder  who  works  steadily,  without  losing  time  by  idleness 
or  sickness.  He  had  saved  enough  to  buy  his  home  and  furnish 
it.  In  one  corner  of  the  parlor  stood  an  upright  piano,  which 
the  young  lady  sister  played  as  well  as  the  average  society  belle. 
Speaking  of  strikes,  the  moulder  said, 

"Ah,  I'm  down  on  'em.  They're  no  good.  I'm  down 
on  'em." 

He  said  this  because  he  thought  I  was  opposed  to  them. 
I  said, 

"  Some  strikes  may  be  harmful,  but  is  not  good  accomplish 
ed  by  others  ?  The  street-car  drivers,  for  instance,  who  worked 
fourteen  hours  for  a  dollar  and  a  half — don't  you  think  they 
ought  to  have  struck  ?" 

After  a  little  talk  of  this  kind,  Mr.  Peters  came  around  and 
warmly  espoused  the  principle  of  strikes.  Working-men  have 
so  long  been  accustomed  to  be  frowned  upon  by  the  so-called 
"  upper  "  classes  when  they  attempt  to  better  their  condition, 
that  they  are  cautious  and  timid  about  showing  their  true 
feelings. 

The  Southern  Bagging  Company  in  St.  Louis  worked  their 
employes  twelve  hours  a  day  as  late  as  May,  1886.  In  that 
month  the  tired,  overworked  girls  struck  for  a  reduction  to 
sixty  hours  a  week.  They  succeeded  in  getting  sixty-one.  I 
called  on  Matilda  Rose,  one  of  the  strikers.  She  lived  in  the 
rear  of  a  small  tenement-house.  A  narrow  and  not  over-clean 
alley  led  to  the  court,  whence  a  pair  of  rickety  stairs  conduct 
ed  me  to  the  first  of  the  two  rooms  Miss  Rose  calls  home.  The 
room  was  poorly  furnished.  In  a  corner  was  a  kitchen  stove. 


124  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

In  addition  were  a  table  and  three  chairs.  On  a  table  I  noticed 
a  German  magazine  and  a  Bible. 

"  My  mother  and  I  pay  seven  dollars  a  month  rent,"  said 
Miss  Rose.  "  Our  grocery  and  butcher  bills  run  up  as  high  as 
thirty  dollars  a  month.  We  do  our  own  cooking,  or  rather 
mother  does  it.  I  have  to  be  at  the  mill  until  six.  It  is  seven 
by  the  time  I  get  home.  Then  I  am  so  tired  that  I  can  hardly 
eat  supper,  much  less  cook  it.  We  are  paid  so  much  per  cut 
of  sixty-six  yards.  The  price  ranges  from  thirteen  to  seven 
teen  cents  per  cut,  according  to  quality.  I  make  on  the  aver 
age  fifty  cuts  a  week,  or  about  six  dollars." 

Mrs.  Mary  M'Ghee,  another  of  the  bagging-girls,  was  even 
less  happily  situated  than  Miss  Rose.  AVith  her  father  and 
mother  and  little  boy  she  occupied  two  closet-like  rooms  in  the 
rear  of  a  cheap  dwelling-house.  The  two  rooms  were  a  de 
tached  shanty  several  feet  below  the  level  of  the  street.  They 
were  damp  and  unhealthy.  Mrs.  M'Ghee  said  she  knew  not 
whether  her  husband  were  dead  or  alive.  He  had  enlisted  in 
the  army  eleven  years  ago.  Being  a  "  winder,"  she  made  less 
than  Miss  Rose,  who  was  a  weaver.  Her  wages  averaged  $4.50 
a  week.  Her  father  earned  $6.  On  this  income  ($10.50  a 
week)  the  four  persons  lived.  Rent  was  $5  a  month ;  gro 
ceries,  $2.25  a  week;  meat,  $2.  On  the  remaining  $4.88  the 
four  clothed  themselves,  bought  fuel,  and  all  the  other  neces 
saries  of  life.  Even  with  health  and  steady  work  they  find  it 
difficult  to  live  at  such  rates.  A  month's  sickness  or  loss  of 
employment  means  starvation.  No  wonder  hard-working  peo 
ple  like  these  despair  when  they  see  that,  with  all  their  industry 
and  close  economy,  they  are  unable  to  provide  against  sickness, 
old  age,  or  other  emergency. 

The  tobacco  factories  of  St.  Louis  employ  more  girls  and  pay 
a  higher  average  of  wages  than  the  bagging  factories,  but  for 
several  reasons,  principally  on  the  score  of  health,  they  are  not 
as  popular  with  the  working-women.  My  lady  assistant,  who 
spent  a  week  in  the  various  tobacco -works  questioning  the 
girls,  was  completely  prostrated  by  the  work.  In  one  factory 


LABOR    STRIKES    AND    UNIONS.  125 

as  many  as  four  hundred  girls  were  working  in  a  single  hall. 
The  temperature  is  always  kept  to  a  high  point  in  these  halls. 
The  sudden  change  from  the  cold,  pure  atmosphere  to  the 
heated,  tobacco-impregnated  air  of  the  factory  was  what  made 
my  agent  sick.  The  employes  usually  discard  ceremony,  and 
work  in  the  factory  dres*s,  or  rather  undress,  to  suit  the  occa 
sion.  One  unaccustomed  to  such  sights  is  apt  to  be  a  little 
surprised  on  first  entering  a  tobacco-stripping  room,  where  are 
several  hundred  women  and  girls  seated  on  the  floor  or  stand 
ing  at  benches,  with  dresses  unbuttoned,  or  opened  in  an  ex 
ceedingly  neglige  way.  For  this  hard  work  and  exposure  to 
the  poisonous  tobacco  atmosphere  a  large  number  of  girls  re 
ceive  as  much  as  $5  a  week,  while  a  few  get  $10  and  $11. 


'UZTIVERSIl 


126  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOW   NAILS    AKE    MADE. 

A  BIG  STRIKE. —COAL-MINERS. — THEIR  GLOOMY  LIFE. — A  MAN  WHO 
BELIEVED  IN  INSULATION. —WHY  THE  POLAR-BEAR  FROZE.— THE 
LADY  COOK. — LIVING  BY  ABSORPTION. — A  NIGHT  ON  PIKE'S  PEAK. 
— A  MORMON  PEDESTRIAN. 

THE  nailer's  occupation  is,  apparent!}7,  a  good  one.  When 
work  is  brisk  a  nailer  can  make  $5  a  day.  "  When  brisk !" 
there  is  the  rub.  How  much  time  can  the  nailer  average  ?  Not 
more  than  six  months  in  the  year.  Another  drawback  is  the 
injurious  nature  of  the  work.  The  knives  used  to  cut  the  dies 
that  form  the  nails  are  ground  on  huge  grindstones.  The  dust 
thrown  off  sifts-into  the  lungs,  frequently  causing  consumption 
and  early  death.  One  reason  why  the  nailers  can  make  as 
much  as  $5  a  day  is  because  they  control  the  labor  market  in 
their  branch. 

"  I  had  an  intelligent  man  whom  I  wanted  to  become  a 
nailer,"  said  Mr.  Powell,  of  the  Western  Nail  Mills.  "  I  took 
him  into  the  mills  to  one  of  the  nailers.  Said  the  nailer,  '  I 
cannot  teach  him  ;  we  do  not  open  our  trade  to  every  one.  It 
would  ruin  us.'  I  was  unable  to  have  the  man  taught  in  my 
own  mill." 

The  feeder  is  employed  by  the  nailer.  He  sits  perched  up 
on  a  three-legged  stool  manipulating  the  sheet  of  iron  from 
which  the  nails  are  made.  The  strip  of  iron  is  fastened  to  a 
round  stick  the  size  of  a  broom-handle.  By  a  continuous  and 
rapid  twist  of  the  wrist  the  feeder  inserts  the  bar  of  iron  be 
tween  the  teeth  of  the  machine.  The  teeth  bite  off  at  each 
turn  a  small  piece  of  iron,  which  small  piece,  in  some  mysteri 
ous  way,  drops  into  a  receptacle  underneath  a  fully  developed 


HOW    NAILS    ARE    MADE.  127 

nail.  A  good  feeder  who  sits  steadily  on  his  stool  ten  Lours 
can  in  that  time  manage  "to  shove  through  ten  kegs  of  ten- 
penny  nails.  The  self-feeding  machine  that  is  being  introduced 
in  nail-mills  will  do  away  with  the  feeder  employed  by  the 
nailers.  With  the  new  machine  only  a  small  boy  is  required 
to  occasionally  insert  a  fttfsh  bar,  which  the  machine,  of  its  own 
accord,  begins,  as  soon  as  it  is  in  place,  to  cut  up  into  nails. 
This  boy  works  for  seventy-five  cents  a  day.  The  feeders  were 
paid  by  the  nailers  $1.50.  The  self-feeding  machine  has  the 
advantage  in  still  another  way — it  turns  out  fifteen  kegs  of 
nails  to  ten  kegs  the  old  way.  The  manufacturers  prefer  the 
self-feeding  machine  because  it  cannot  strike. 

A  peculiar  feature  of  the  great  strike  of  1885,  when  nearly 
every  nail-mill  in  the  country  was  closed  for  more  than  a  year, 
was  the  action  of  the  feeders.  These  men  struck  solely  to 
sustain  the  nailers,  who  had  gone  out  to  resist  a  reduction  in 
wages.  After  many  months  of  loss  and  suffering,  the  nailers 
decided  to  give  up  the  strike  and  go  back  to  work.  What  was 
their  surprise  to  find  that  the  fight  was  no  longer  theirs !  The 
feeders  refused  to  go  back.  They  insisted  that  the  nailers 
should  not  accept  lower  wages.  There  was  no  talk  of  reducing 
the  pay  of  the  feeders.  What  they  did  was  entirely  disinter 
ested,  and  they  actually  kept  the  nailers  from  working  long 
after  they  saw  that  the  battle  was  lost.  This  action  of  the  feed 
ers  led  to  the  rapid  introduction  of  the  self-feeding  machines. 

A  nailer  whom  I  visited  at  Belleville,  Illinois,  fifteen  miles 
from  St.  Louis,  had  three  sons.  The  sons  and  father  earned 
together  from  $6000  to  $7000  a  year,  yet  never  laid  by  a  cent. 
They  lived  on  a  more  costly  scale  than  the  majority  of  pro 
fessional  men,  who  usually  save  up  a  little  for  a  rainy  day. 
High  wages  seemed  to  make  them  reckless.  Except  as  typical 
of  a  class,  this  would  not  be  worth  mentioning;  unfortunately, 
only  a  small  number  of  those  earning  high  wages  are  thrifty 
and  save.  They  are  making  such  good  wages  that  they  do  not 
think  of  "rainy  days."  By-and-by  the  rain  pours  in  the  shape 
of  a  strike,  and  then  the  nailer  who  has  been  making  $6  a 


128  THE    TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

day  is  as  hard  up,  and  suffers  fully  as  much  as  does  unskilled 
labor  when  out  of  work.  In  another  family  I  visited  were  two 
nailers  who  made  during  the  busy  season — six  months  in  the 
year — from  $6  to  $7  a  day  apiece.  The  income  of  the  father, 
grown  son,  and  mother  was  $2028  for  the  six  months.  Said 
the  mother, 

"Formerly,  before  the  reduction  in  wages,  Will  made  one 
hundred  dollars  a  week.  Sixty  dollars  he  paid  his  feeders,  leav 
ing  forty  clear  for  himself.  This  was  his  average  the  year 
around.  Now  he  makes  only  forty-two  dollars  to  fifty-two  dol 
lars  a  week  during  only  six  months,  which  is  really  as  if  he 
were  making  only  twenty-one  dollars  and  twenty-six  cents  a 
week." 

In  sharp  contrast  to  the  nailers  are  the  coal-miners  next  door. 
Indeed,  leaving  the  Western  Nail  Mills  in  Belleville,  one  need 
not  even  go  next  door  to  find  coal-mines ;  there  are  mines  un 
der  the  mills  themselves.  Just  at  the  end  of  the  engine-room 
is  a  shaft,  down  which  I  descended  into  the  very  bowels  of  the 
earth.  The  miners,  black  with  coal-dust,  were  on  their  knees 
picking  away  at  the  great  solid  mass  of  coal.  The  greasy 
lamps  fastened  to  their  caps  dimly  lighted  the  fantastic  scene. 
The  men  enter  the  mines  at  half-past  six  in  the  morning,  and 
do  not  leave  until  half-past  five  in  the  evening.  Their  dinner, 
which  they  bring  down  with  them,  consists  mainly  of  bread 
spread  with  butter,  sausage,  and  coffee.  For  their  hard  and 
disagreeable  work  they  earn  from  $1  to  $1.70  a  day.  They 
are  paid  one  and  a  half  cents  a  bushel.  Said  a  miner, 

"  Taking  it  the  year  through,  I  am  not  able  to  earn  more 
than  a  dollar  for  each  working-day — six  dollars  a  week.  It 
takes  one  week's  work  (one-fourth  of  my  wages)  to  pay  the 
rent  of  a  house  31  by  18  feet,  cut  into  two  rooms.  On  the 
balance,  eighteen  dollars,  I  must  clothe  and  feed  myself  and 
family.  Do  my  wife  and  daughters  ever  work  in  the  mines? 
I  guess  not !  Once  two  women  started  to  work  in  these  mines, 
but  we  would  not  stand  it.  It  was  taking  bread  and  meat  out 
of  our  mouths.  Women  always  make  wages  low.  My  wife 


HOW    NAILS    ARE    MADE.  131 

takes  in  washing,  and  helps  me  out  that  way.  Women  work 
ing  in  the  mines?  Well,  I  should  say  not!" 

He  scouted  the  idea,  not  because  such  work  is  debasing  to 
the  sex,  but  because  women,  when  they  take  up  a  thing,  "al 
ways  lower  wages."  Remembering  the  young  girls  in  German 
and  Belgian  mines  whom  I  had  seen  at  this  hard  and  coarsen 
ing  work,  I  was  glad  they  opposed  women  working  in  the  mines, 
no  matter  what  the  grounds  of  their  opposition. 

Miners  live  so  hidden  from  the  rest  of  the  world  that  they 
grow  shy.  At  first  they  were  unwilling  to  talk  to  me.  When 
the  shyness  wore  off,  they  crowded  around  as  I  reclined  on  a 
coal-bank  wrapped  in  a  rubber  ulster.  I  questioned  them  about 
their  work,  and  told  them  of  the  mines  I  had  seen  in  England 
and  Europe.  They  talked  freely,  and  when  I  understood  their 
situation,  I  was  forced  to  the  sad  conclusion  that  their  lot  is  but 
little  better  than  that  of  the  mules  they  drive.  These  patient 
animals,  when  they  enter  a  mine,  never  leave  it  until  they  leave 
it  to  die.  They  have  a  stable  deep  under  the  earth,  and  after 
years  of  subterranean  life  become  so  accustomed  to  their  new 
condition  that  they  lose,  so  it  is  said,  the  power  of  sight,  and 
if  brought  to  the  upper  world  are  almost,  if  not  entirely,  blind. 

One  who  studies  the  condition  of  coal-miners  in  America  will 
feel  as  if  he  has  descended  a  ladder  the  lowest  rung  of  which 
is  in  the  east  and  the  highest  in  the  west.  The  coal-miner  of 
Pennsylvania  is  a  very  different  creature  from  the  coal-miner  of 
Illinois,  Missouri,  and  Colorado.  In  Pennsylvania,  coal  syndi 
cates  and  coal  trusts  combine  together  to  control  the  market 
and  crush  the  laborer.  The  owners  are  protected  by  a  high 
tariff  on  coal ;  when  the  poor  miners  try  to  protect  themselves 
by  combinations  and  strikes,  they  are  crushed  to  the  earth  by 
the  importation  of  cheap  labor  from  Hungary  and  Italy.  The 
millionaire  employers  bring  these  men  over  in  gangs  to  take  the 
places  of  American  working-men,  starving  the  latter  into  sub 
mitting  to  reductions  in  wages.  These  employers  are  willing 
enough  to  have  free-trade  in  human  labor,  but  on  all  the  nec 
essaries  of  life  they  want  the  highest  tariff.  The  hard-working 


132  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

Pennsylvania  miners  get  from  eighty  to  ninety  cents  a  day, 
which  does  not  enable  them  to  buy  enough  of  the  coal  they 
themselves  dig  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth  to  keep  warm. 

The  miners  of  Missouri  and  Illinois  fare  better.  There  is 
comparatively  an  abundance  of  land.  The  Western  miners  can 
afford  small  gardens,  and  raise  their  own  chickens  and  vegeta 
bles.  The  coal-miners  of  Colorado  have  an  abundance  of  land, 
but  they  do  not  have  gardens,  owing  to  the  lack  of  rain,  and 
irrigation  is  too  expensive.  Rents  in  Denver  are  not  very  dear. 
A  nice  four-room  cottage  can  be  had  for  from  $12  to  $14  a 
month.  Beefsteak  costs  fifteen  cents  a  pound,  eggs  eighteen 
cents  a  dozen,  milk  seven  cents  a  quart,  a  miner's  boots  cost  $5, 
his  duck  suit  $2.50. 

It  is  easier  to  learn  what  a  workman  spends  than  what  he 
earns.  The  half  a  dozen  coal-mine  owners  around  Denver 
unite  in  saying  that  their  men  earn  an  average  of  $3  a  day. 
The  men  are  equally  as  unanimous  in  declaring  that  they  earn 
barely  half  that  sum — $45  a  month.  They  probably  would 
earn  the  sum  stated  by  their  employers  were  the  work  steady. 
Blockaded  shafts  and  other  mishaps  cause  the  miners,  through 
no  fault  of  their  own,  to  lose  nearly  half  time.  Coal 
mining  is  far  from  pleasant  work;  it  requires  both  strength 
and  skill ;  yet  it  is  poorly  paid  in  comparison  with  unskilled 
labor  neither  so  hard  nor  disagreeable.  A  day  laborer  or  team 
ster  in  Denver  gets  $1.50  a  day;  carpenters  and  bricklayers 
earn  two  or  three  times  as  much. 

Denver  is  a  cold  place  in  winter.  On  one  of  the  very  cold 
est  days  of  the  season,  when  the  mercury  registered  below  zero, 
and  a  seven-inch  snow  lay  on  the  ground,  a  card  was  brought 
up  to  my  room  in  the  Windsor.  Following  the  card  was  a 
little  man  pinched  and  blue  with  cold,  his  nose  red,  his  ears 
half  frozen.  lie  said  he  had  heard  I  was  a  special  labor  agent. 
He  wanted  to  lay  before  me  a  discovery  that  would  be  of  ines 
timable  benefit  to  the  working-classes. 

"  People  don't  understand  the  power  of  electricity,"  said  this 
gentleman.  "  They  insulate  themselves  from  the  earth,  cut 


HOW   NAILS    ARE    MADE.  133 

themselves  off  from  the  electrical  currents,  thereby  inviting  dis 
ease  and  early  death.  I  have  studied  this  subject.  The  earth 
is  our  mother;  she  will  supply  us  with  electricity  if  we  only 
stop  insulating  ourselves.  You  see  my  shoes?  The  soles  are 
very  thin.  If  you  wore  such  shoes  you  would  catch  your 
death.  I  never  get  cold.  Why  ?"  Jerking  off  one  of  his 
dilapidated  shoes,  he  pointed  to  a  copper  tack  in  the  sole. 
"  That's  what  prevents  me  from  being  cold.  The  copper  tack 
keeps  up  the  electricity ;  prevents  me  from  being  insulated. 
Children  of  the  poor,  who  go  barefooted,  are  healthier  than 
the  children  of  the  rich,  who  constantly  insulate  themselves  by 
wearing  shoes.  Put  an  animal  on  the  ground  and  he  will  keep 
warm ;  raise  him  a  few  feet  onto  a  board  floor  and  he  will 
freeze.  In  Lynchburg,  Virginia,  a  polar  bear  froze  to  death 
because  he  was  kept  in  a  cage  insulated  from  the  electrical  cur 
rents  of  the  earth.  In  Montana  animals  remaining  in  the  open 
air  with  their  feet  on  the  ground  do  not  suffer.  The  few  that 
are  housed  cannot  stand  the  severe  winters,  and  die  of  cold.  In 
your  intercourse  with  the  working-classes  you  can  spread  this 
discovery,  and  save  them  the  expense  of  thick  shoes  and  socks. 
It  will  be  a  great  thing  for  them." 

This  well-meaning  man  reminded  me  of  a  wealthy  but  eccen 
tric  Kentucky  gentleman  who  held  the  theory  that  humanity 
can  live  by  absorption,  and  tried  to  prove  it  by  getting  into 
hogsheads  filled  with  mush.  He  stood  in  the  mush  up  to  his 
chin  for  several  days,  when  his  servants  took  him  out  by  main 
force  and  made  him  absorb  a  little  food  in  the  natural  way. 
On  further  reflection,  he  concluded  that  walking  shortened  life. 
For  two  years  he  lay  on  his  back  on  a  mattress,  making  his 
servants  carry  him  and  the  mattress  out  to  a  wagon,  in  which 
he  was  hauled  about  the  country  to  visit  his  neighbors,  stretched 
at  full  length.  This  plan  did  not  prove  a  brilliant  success; 
the  poor  old  man  gave  up  the  ghost  not  long  afterwards. 

As  special  labor  agent  I  met  many  such  eccentric  persons. 
One  day  a  woman  called  on  me  at  my  office  in  San  Francisco, 
and  stated  that  she  wished  me  to  investigate  her  case. 


134  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME, 

"  Who  are  yon,  madam,  and  what  is  your  case  ?" 

"  I  am  a  lady  cook,  and  my  case  is  one  of  the  most  malig 
nant  persecution." 

She  then  went  on  to  tell  how  she  was  persecuted  by  the 
Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company.  She  was  a  "lady"  cook  in 
a  wealthy  private  family,  and  the  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Com 
pany  was  doing  everything  in  its  power  to  make  her  lose  her 
place.  It  was  sending  spies  to  watch  her,  to  dog  her  footsteps, 
to  make  noises  under  her  window  at  night. 

"  What  object  can  the  company  have  in  persecuting  you  so  ?" 

"  Pure  devilishness,"  replied  the  lady  cook.  "  They  have 
been  treating  me  this  way  for  the  last  four  years.  I  can't  keep 
a  situation  long,  they  dog  me  so ;"  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

I  saw  the  poor  woman  was  slightly  insane,  and  attempted  to 
get  rid  of  her  by  telling  her  that  the  case  was  out  of  my  juris 
diction,  that  she  would  have  to  get  a  lawyer.  At  this  she  flew 
into  a  rage. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  the  Government  is  paying  you  for 
if  it  isn't  to  look  into  just  such  cases  ,as  mine?  Here  I  am, 
persecuted  and  hunted  by  a  rich  company,  and  you  won't  do 
anything  for  me." 

The  lady  cook  refused  to  leave  until  I  promised  to  investi 
gate  her  case.  I  did  make  some  inquiries,  and  learned  that  she 
had  been  boring  the  Chief  of  Police,  the  State  Commissioner 
of  Labor,  and  other  officials  with  the  story  of  her  imaginary 
persecutions.  She  never  called  again,  and  I  suppose  is  by  this 
time  in  a  lunatic  asylum. 

Denver  is  the  centre  of  the  tourist's  operations  in  Colorado. 
It  lias  a  number  of  tolerably  good  hotels.  The  traveller,  after 
each  trip  to  this  or  that  canon  or  gorge,  returns  to  Denver  to 
rest  and  recuperate  from  the  effects  of  greasy  Western  diet. 
Near  Manitou,  eighty  miles  from  Denver,  I  went  to  the  Garden 
of  the  Gods,  a  natural  enclosure,  with  walls  made  of  natural 
rifts  of  rock  two  or  three  hundred  feet  high.  There  are  only 
two  gate-ways  through  which  entrance  or  exit  can  be  made. 
Within  this  curious  place  are  formations  resembling  birds,  ani- 


HOW    NAILS    ARE    MADE.  135 

mals,  men  carved  out  of  the  solid  rocks,  or  cast  up  in  some 
convulsion  by  Nature  herself.  On  the  top  of  one  of  the  gate 
posts,  a  straight,  upright  rock  near  the  entrance,  three  hundred 
and  eighty  feet  high,  I  saw  a  small  flag  waving. 

"  How  was  that  flag  put  there  ?" 

"  A  tourist  put  it  the're  on  the  Fourth  of  July,"  answered 
the  guide.  "  He  cut  those  holes  you  see  there  on  the  sloping 
side  of  the  rock.  It  was  slow  work  going  up,  but  he  made  up 
for  it  coming  down." 

"  How  ?" 

"  By  falling,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

The  tourist  succeeded  in  the  foolhardy  feat  of  climbing  up 
that  steep  rock;  when  on  top,  his  foot  slipped  or  his  head 
became  dizzy,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground,  a  mass  of  pulpy  flesh 
and  broken  bones. 

The  ascent  of  Pike's  Peak,  begun  from  Manitou,  is  usually 
made  on  mule-back.  I  made  it  on  foot.  The  month  was  July. 
It  was  a  hot  day  when  I  started,  but  the  heat  was  soon  passed. 
As  hour  after  hour  of  hard  climbing  went  by,  village  and  valley 
were  seen  through  a  haze,  growing  dimmer  and  dimmer  to  the 
sight.  I  drew  rny  coat  close  around  me,  shivering  with  cold. 
In  places  the  trail  is  not  two  feet  wide ;  on  one  side  a  massive 
wall  of  granite,  on  the  other  a  yawning  precipice.  A  single 
misstep  would  be  fatal.  The  ascent  led  me  up  to  a  barren 
world  of  snow  and  ice,  and  a  solitude  of  unbroken  silence. 
The  world  of  life  and  sunshine,  of  green  trees  and  flowers,  of 
beasts  and  men,  lay  in  the  distance,  indistinct,  undefined.  Not 
even  the  eagle,  said  to  love  lofty  flights,  is  fond  of  this  frozen 
region.  The  pedestrian  climbing  up  those  rough  rocks,  cov 
ered  with  eternal  snow,  feels  as  if  he  were  in  a  dead  world ;  as 
if  all  life,  save  his  own,  were  stricken  from  earth. 

Two  miles  from  the  summit  I  encountered  a  blinding  snow- 

O 

storm.  Fast  and  furious  fell  the  white  flakes,  and  bitter  was 
the  cold  that  July  day.  I  could  not  see  the  trail.  It  was 
completely  covered  by  snow.  To  follow  it  hap-hazard  was  dan 
gerous.  The  slightest  misstep  might  send  me  head-over-heels 


136  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

a  thousand  feet  into  some  awful  and  unexplored  chasm.  How 
ever,  there  were  those  blessed  representatives  of  human  civiliza 
tion — telegraph  poles.  I  followed  them.  Imagine  a  narrow 
path-way  set  on  end  at  a  sharp  angle  and  paved  with  jagged 
stones.  This  was  the  road  to  be  got  over,  with  only  a  row  of 
telegraph  poles  as  a  guide.  Some  of  the  bowlders  were  so  big 
and  steep  that  my  feet  slipped  back  in  the  deep  snow,  as  it 
seemed,  faster  than  they  went  upward.  Gusts  of  wind  blew  the 
stinging  flakes  in  my  face  and  eyes ;  when  at  last,  after  three 
hours'  climbing  up  that  rugged  mountain-side,  the  dark  outline 
of  the  signal-station  faintly  appeared,  I  gave  a  cry  of  joy.  The 
signal-officer  was  standing  in  the  door  surveying  the  great 
white  sea  of  whirling  snow. 

The  United  States  Signal  Service  Station  on  the  top  of  Pike's 
Peak  is  a  low,  gloomy-looking  structure — a  prison,  the  jailer 
of  which  is  the  inexorable  winter  that  reigns  from  year's  end 
to  year's  end.  This  low,  flat  prison  is  made  of  granite,  and 
anchored  and  bolted  to  the  granite  bowlders.  The  wind  whis 
tles  and  howls  around  it  day  and  night  in  one  eternal  winter. 
No  trees,  no  leaves,  no  birds,  no  beasts,  no  life  except  the  one 
lone  man  whom  the  Government  employs  to  do  the  signal  serv 
ice.  Mr.  Litzel,  a  young  man  of  about  thirty,  had  charge  of  the 
station.  He  had  a  good,  intelligent  face,  with  that  care-worn, 
depressed  expression  which  comes  from  unbroken  solitude. 

"  You  don't  often  see  snow  in  July  ?"  he  said,  after  I  had 
thawed  out  before  a  blazing  fire. 

"  Not  often.     You  don't  yourself,  do  you  ?" 

"  In  summer,  two  or  three  times  a  week ;  in  winter,  all  the 
time.  Snow  is  my  only  water  supply.  That  boiler  there," 
pointing  to  the  stove,  "  is  full  of  melting  snow.  Even  in  tho 
heart  of  summer  there  is  always  enough  snow  at  my  door  to 
furnish  all  the  water  needed." 

"  Does  not  life  become  weary  and  desolate  up  here  on  this 
lonely  peak,  so  far  from  the  busy  world  ?" 

"  So  much  so,  I  sometimes  fear  it  will  drive  me  crazy.  My 
official  duties  are  light ;  they  require  only  an  occasional  inspec- 


HOW    NAILS    ARE    MADE. 


137 


tion  of  the  instruments.  The  rest  of  the  time  I  have  nothing 
to  do  but  read.  Too  much  reading  becomes  wearisome.  Some 
times  I  stand  at  the  window  with  my  telescope;  the  wind 
without  is  keen,  and  cutting  as  a  knife.  I  can  see  the  houses 
of  Colorado  Springs,  twenty  miles  away,  see  the  visitors  sitting 
in  their  shirt-sleeves  sipping  iced  drinks  to  keep  cool,  and  the 


THE   SIGNAL-STATION    ON    PIKE'S   PEAK. 

ladies  walking  about  in  white  summer  robes.  Then  I  lower 
the  glass — the  summer  scene  is  gone ;  green  trees  and  animal 
life,  men  and  women,  fade  away  like  creatures  in  a  dream,  and 
I  am  the  only  living  thing  in  a  world  of  eternal  ice  and  snow 
and  silence." 

The  criminal  shut  up  in  a  penitentiary  to  expiate  his  crime 


138  THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

is  more  pleasantly  situated  than  this  prisoner  on  top  of  Pike's 
Peak.  He  is  banished  from  the  world,  and  to  serve  what  good 
purpose  ? 

"  Except  to  gain  knowledge  of  Pike's  Peak,"  said  the  signal- 
officer,  "  there  is  no  use  for  this  station.  Pike's  Peak  is  alto 
gether  too  much  out  of  the  world  to  afford  much  useful  knowl 
edge  regarding  parts  of  the  world  where  men  dwell.  The  wind 
may  be  blowing  from  the  north  up  here,  when  below  it  is  blow 
ing  from  the  south.  It  may  be  cold  here,  and  warm  and  dry 
in  the  valley.  Moreover,  my  reports  are  too  old  to  be  of  use 
in  making  weather  predictions.  The  telegraph  line  is  not  op 
erated.  In  summer  I  send  down  reports  every  two  weeks.  In 
winter  I  send  none  ;  for  during  the  winter  there  is  no  commu 
nication  with  the  world.  No  human  being  can  come  up  to  me, 
and  it  is  almost  impossible  for  me  to  go  down  to  the  world,  so 
deep  is  the  trail  covered  with  snow  and  ice." 

There  is  about  an  acre  of  rough,  jagged  bowlders  on  the 
summit  of  the  peak.  The  sides  of  the  peak  tumble  steeply 
down  to  the  valley  below.  The  house  of  the  observer  is  set 
near  the  edge,  looking  down  into  what  is  called  the  "  Devil's 
Punch-bowl."  One  winter  night  the  storm  blew  the  observer's 
wood-pile  into  this  black  and  fearful  bowl,  and  tore  off  a  part 
of  the  roof.  The  snow  came  down.  The  cold  was  intense.  It 
was  certain  death  to  remain  without  fuel.  To  attempt  a  de 
scent  in  the  storm  was  a  fearful  alternative.  The  officer,  how 
ever,  made  the  endeavor,  and  looked  upon  his  safe  descent  as 
almost  a  miracle. 

As  the  sun  sinks  in  the  west  the  shadows  of  the  peak  grad 
ually  reach  out  to  the  east,  a  huge  black  mantle  that  finally 
enshrouds  the  valley  in  darkness.  The  sunrise  is  even  a  grand 
er  sight.  Mr.  Litzel  called  me  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
All  was  yet  dark.  The  Devil's  Punch-bowl  looked  black  as 
midnight,  but  far  in  the  east  a  faint  dawn  heralded  the  day. 
Soon  a  narrow  rim  of  fire  pushed  up  ;  the  rim  grew  larger  and 
larger,  until  it  shone  a  huge  red  orb,  which  slowly  and  majes 
tically  rose  in  the  sky,  lighting  up  the  lofty  peaks  while  the 


HOW    NAILS    AllE    MADE.  139 

valleys  were  still  wrapped  in  darkness.  It  was  full  five  min 
utes  after  the  sun  fell  on  us  before  its  light  kindled  the  valleys 
below. 

It  costs  the  Government  twenty  dollars  a  cord  to  transport 
wood  to  the  top  of  Pike's  Peak.  The  signal-officer  charged  a 
dollar  for  a  sandwich  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 

The  journey  west  from  Pike's  Peak  is  through  rugged  gorges 
three  thousand  feet  deep.  Originally  these  gorges  were  only 
fissures  cut  out  by  the  mountain  torrent,  the  walls  of  granite 
rising  on  either  side  three  to  five  thousand  feet  high.  Mules 
and  men  were  let  down  from  the  summit  of  the  mountains  by 
stout  ropes.  A  path-way  along  the  side  of  the  bubbling  stream 
was  hewn  and  blasted  away,  and  now  trains  of  palace-cars  fly 
through  those  once  inaccessible  caiions. 

After  scaling  Marshall  Pass,  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  the  train  descends  into  the  great  Desert  of 
Utah.  Two  hundred  miles  before  reaching  Salt  Lake  City  an 
accident  occurred.  A  bridge  fell  in,  and  the  engine  and  several 
cars  tumbled  into  the  water.  The  engineer  and  fireman  were 
drowned,  some  of  the  passengers  were  injured,  and  all  badly 
scared.  For  two  days  we  remained  there  on  the  open  plain, 
with  nothing  to  eat  except  crackers  and  tea,  which  the  railroad 
company  supplied  from  the  nearest  section-house.  The  immi 
grants  were  loaded  with  huge  bundles  of  bedding,  pots,  kettles, 
pans,  and  other  kitchen  effects.  They  also  had  food  supplies, 
and  were  not  a  little  envied  by  the  first-class  passengers,  who 
for  the  time  being  had  to  live  on  crackers  and  weak  tea.  Had 
such  an  accident  happened  to  me  on  my  tramp  trip  in  Europe, 
I  would  have  suffered  little  inconvenience.  I  constantly  car 
ried  in  my  knapsack  a  coil  of  bologna-sausage  and  a  stock  of 
black  bread.  This,  with  grapes  and  figs  bought  on  the  way, 
formed  my  sole  diet  on  a  tramp  from  Buda-Pesth  to  Constan 
tinople.  After  two  days  of  weak  tea  and  crackers  on  the  burn 
ing  desert  of  Utah,  we  started  across  a  temporary  foot-bridge  to 
board  the  train  that  had  been  sent  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  meet 
us.  A  dapper  young  man  undertook  to  show  the  ladies  across. 


140  THE   TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

"There's  no  danger — no  danger  at  all!"  the  dapper  young 
man  jauntily  declared  as  he  briskly  started  to  trip  over  the 
rickety  foot-path  to  encourage  the  more  timid  ladies.  Unfort 
unately  for  his  good  intentions,  his  foot  slipped,  and  he  tum 
bled  into  the  water.  When  they  fished  him  out  he  made  no 
more  offers  to  show  the  ladies  how  to  cross. 

In  Salt  Lake  City  I  saw  the  sights  usually  shown  tourists. 
I  also  saw  the  champion  pedestrian  of  the  world,  as  he  called 
himself.  I  had  gone  out  to  look  at  the  grave  of  Brigham 
Young,  and  on  the  way  fell  in  with  a  Mormon  pedestrian.  It 
came  about  that  I  told  him  of  my  tramp  over  Europe. 

"  Pshaw!"  said  the  Mormon,  "  that's  nothing.  I  have  walked 
over  every  continent  on  the  globe.  Fifty  thousand  miles  would 
fall  short  of  the  distance  of  my  tramps  around  the  world." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  walk  so  much  ?" 

"  Had  to,"  was  the  reply.  "  During  the  war  a  shell  wounded 
me  in  the  leg,  giving  me  creeping  paralysis.  I  consulted  the 
best  physicians,  and  all  agreed  that  my  only  chance  was  to 
walk  it  off.  '  Walk,'  they  said, '  and  you  may  keep  the  paralysis 
down.  Stop  walking,  the  paralysis  will  begin  to  creep  up  until 
it  catches  your  heart,  then  death.'  You  may  depend  upon 
it,"  continued  the  Mormon  pedestrian,  with  an  oath,  "that  I 
walked  that  paralysis  right  down  to  the  tips  of  my  toes,  and 
it  hasn't  had  the  strength  to  crawl  up  since." 

I  heard  of  one  case  in  Salt  Lake  City  where  a  young  girl 
was  courted  by  an  already  "  severally  "  married  man.  The 
young  lady  liked  her  suitor,  but  did  not  wish  to  leave  her 
mother.  To  settle  the  matter,  the  lover  married  both  mother 
and  daughter.  Thus  we  see  polygamy  overcomes  difficulties 
insurmountable  to  the  monogamist.  By  marrying  both  mother 
and  daughter  the  Mormon  solves  the  mother-in-law  problem, 
which  for  some  men  seems  to  hold  such  terrors. 


THROUGH   THE    NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  141 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THROUGH    THE    NORTH-WEST    TERRITORY. 

BY  BUCK-BOARD,  BOAT,  AND  STAGE.— GOVERNMENT  "REQUESTS."— 
A  CONDUCTOR  WHO  WANTED  TO  EJECT  ME. — THE  CHINESE  GAR 
DENS  IN  PORTLAND. — UP  THE  COLUMBIA. — LOGGING  IN  WASH 
INGTON  TERRITORY. — A  FOREST  FIRE. — WE  HAVE  TO  CLEAR  THE 
WAY.  —  THE  INLETS  OF  PUGET  SOUND.  —  A  FLOATING  PHOTOG 
RAPHER. 

Lv  travelling  through  the  Pacific  coast  States,  I  was  often 
obliged  to  conceal  the  fact  that  I  was  a  Government  agent, 
in  order  to  escape  swindling  and  overcharging.  In  one  town 
where  I  desired  to  examine  some  court  records,  the  county 
clerk  demanded  payment  for  permission  to  look  at  the  papers 
— a  right  which  all  citizens  have,  but  which  this  clerk  thought 
a  Government  agent  ought  to  pay  for.  The  hotel-keepers 
often  grumbled  when  they  learned  of  my  position  after  they 
had  fixed  the  rate  of  board. 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  you  were  working  for  the  Govern 
ment?  I  would  have  charged  a  dollar  a  day  more." 

"  Why?     Does  a  special  agent  eat  more  than  any  one  else?" 

"  Of  course  not,  but  the  Government  is  able  to  pay  more, 
and  it  ought  to." 

They  were  right  as  to  the  ability  of  the  Government  to  pay 
more ;  at  the  same  time,  I  did  not  like  to  pay  more  than  other 
travellers,  so,  when  possible,  travelled  incognito. 

Officers  of  the  Government,  when  travelling  on  roads  that 
have  been  subsidized  by  lands  or  bonds,  use  what  are  called 
Government  requests.  I  had  a  book  of  these  requests,  signed 
by  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior. 

When  I  wished  to  go  to  any  point  on  the  Northern  Pacific, 
the  Central  Pacific,  Southern  Pacific,  or  any  of  the  subsidized 


142  THE    TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

roads,  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  fill  out  my  "request"  and  hand 
it  to  the  ticket-agent,  who  gave  me,  in  return,  a  ticket  to  the 
point  named  in  the  request.  There  was  never  any  difficulty 
in  large  towns,  but  occasionally  I  came  across  small  and  re 
mote  stations,  where  the  agent  had  never  seen  a  Government 
request.  In  such  places  there  was  trouble.  At  one  little  town 
in  Washington  Territory  the  agent,  after  looking  at  the  request 
and  turning  it  over  and  over,  said  he  "  couldn't  give  no  ticket 
on  that  piece  of  paper." 

"Why  not?     It  is  issued  in  regular  form." 

"  Never  seed  one  of  'em  before." 

So  I  got  on  the  train  without  a  ticket.  The  conductor, 
when  he  looked  at  the  written  request,  frowned. 

"  We  don't  take  anything  but  tickets  or  money  on  the 
train." 

"  I  have  neither." 

"  I'll  have  to  put  you  off,  then." 

I  knew  that  if  I  paid  the  fare  the  Government  would  not 
refund,  so  told  the  conductor  to  go  ahead. 

"  Now  see  here,"  said  he,  "  there's  no  use  in  your  making  a 
fuss.  That  ain't  no  ticket.  You've  got  to  pay  your  fare." 

"  You  are  the  one  making  the  fuss,"  I  said.  "  Your  road  has 
no  right  to  demand  cash  fares  from  Government  officers.  I 
shall  not  pay." 

"I'll  attend  to  you  in  a  minute,  young  man,"  he  said,  in 
high  dudgeon. 

"Any  time  will  suit  me,"  I  answered. 

He  went  off,  but  did  not  come  back  in  a  minute.  An  hour 
or  two  after,  he  stopped  as  he  passed  my  seat,  and  said  he  had 
telegraphed  the  superintendent,  who  had  instructed  him  to 
accept  the  request  as  if  it  were  a  ticket. 

The  most  north-western  town  in  Washington  Territory,  as 
well  as  of  the  whole  United  States,  is  Semiahmoo.  From 
Cape  Disappointment,  where  I  found  myself  one  morning,  the 
miserable  hamlet  of  Semiahmoo,  stuck  away  off  in  the  Strait  of 
Georgia,  on  a  point  of  land  barely  south  of  latitude  49°,  on 


THROUGH   THE    NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  143 

the  very  outer  edge  of  the  United  States,  is  most  easily  reached 
by  ship  on  the  Pacific  Ocean  along  the  west  coast  of  Washing 
ton  Territory,  and  through  the  Strait  of  San  Juan  do  Fuca. 
'But  I  did  not  go  that  way.  I  went  around  the  three  other 
sides  of  the  square,  thus  rivalling  the  ass  in  Euclid  who  trav 
elled  two  sides  of  a  triangle  instead  of  one  to  reach  his  bale 
of  hay.  My  route  was  not  the  shortest,  but  it  was  the  most 
interesting.  Glimpses  of  wild  life,  of  rugged  mountains,  fron 
tier  towns,  painted  Indians,  islands,  rivers,  and  lakes  well  re 
paid  me  for  that  circuitous  route  over  the  North-west  Terri 
tory. 

The  sail  up  the  Columbia  from  Cape  Disappointment  was 
broken  at  Portland,  where  I  went  to  see  the  Chinese  Gardens, 
the  name  given  to  some  eight  or  ten  acres  of  low,  swampy 
land  rented  by  five  Chinamen,  and  converted  into  a  beautiful 
and  productive  garden.  Each  vegetable  is  planted  in  a  sepa 
rate  bed;  even  the  steep  sides  of  the  hollow  are  terraced,  and 
green  with  rows  of  various  vegetables.  White  men  would  scorn 
to  live  in  such  a  place ;  the  five  Chinese  tenants  and  their  em 
ployes,  who  have  turned  this  swampy  hole  into  a  fruitful  gar 
den,  not  only  live,  but  thrive  and  make  money  by  supplying 
the  city  of  Portland  with  early  and  choice  vegetables. 

"  This  velly  good  place,"  said  one  of  the  almond-eyed  men. 
"  In  China  me  velly  poor,  me  only  make  five  cent  one  day. 
Here  me  eat  heap  rice,  heap  nice  garden.  Velly  good  place." 

My  pigtail  friend  led  the  way  across  the  drain  ditches  to 
his  house,  a  tumble-down  shanty,  filled  with  all  sorts  of  odds 
and  ends — tin  cans,  baskets,  and  the  ever-present  opium  outfit 
of  pipe  and  glass  lamp.  While  I  observed  how  Ah  Foo  saved 
the  dollar  a  white  man  would  spend  by  putting  a  handle  on  an 
old  oil-can,  making  that  serve  as  a  bucket,  the  heathen  softly 
smiled  and  said, 

"  You  no  live  here  ?" 

"No,  I  come  from  New  York." 

New  York  is  the  only  Eastern  place  Chinamen  on  the  Pacific 
coast  have  heard  of  ;  with  him  New  York  is  all  the  East.  An 


144  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

Easterner,  to  give  a  Chinaman  any  idea  of  his  native  place, 
must  say  he  is  from  New  York. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  did  not  live  here?" 

"Melican  man  live  here,  he  no  come  see  gardens.  Melican 
man  from  New  York,  he  likee  see  'em.  Why  don't  you  come 
live  Oregon  City  ?" 

Oregon  City  is  a  village  ten  miles  from  Portland. 

"  Why  should  I  live  in  Oregon  City  ?" 

"  Oh,  Oregon  City  velly  nice  town.  You  bring  your  mother 
from  New  York,  and  live  in  Oregon  City." 

On  a  second  visit,  Ah  Foo  again  suggested  the  advisability 
of  my  bringing  my  mother  from  New  York  and  settling  in 
Oregon  City.  I  wonder  if  the  wily  heathen  had  real  estate 
there  to  sell  ? 

A  peculiar  feature  of  Portland  are  the  piles  of  wood  that 
encumber  the  otherwise  pretty  streets.  At  every  turn  may  be 
seen  a  winter's  supply  of  wood  stacked  ten  or  twelve  feet  high 
in  front  of  the  houses.  The  inhabitants  must  imagine  wood 
piles  ornamental,  for  there  is  no  lack  of  backyard  space,  where 
they  could  be  placed  quite  as  well  as  on  the  streets. 

The  North-west  country  is  noted  for  fog  and  rain.  In  Neah 
Bay  the  annual  rainfall  is  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  inches 
— more  than  ten  feet.  As  our  boat  started  up  the  Columbia 
from  Portland,  from  the  way  the  rain  came  down  I  feared  the 
annual  supply  of  rain  was  to  be  condensed  into  that  one  day. 
Fortunately  the  rain  ceased  in  a  few  hours,  and  disclosed  to 
view  the  grandest  river  scenery  in  the  world,  not  excepting  even 
the  famous  Kazan  defile  on  the  Lower  Danube.  The  rocky 
bluffs  rise  almost  perpendicularly  a  thousand  feet  high ;  then, 
with  only  a  slight  angle,  they  slope  gradually  into  the  clouds, 
where  their  snow-capped  summits  become  entirely  lost  to  view. 
Mount  Hood,  which  can  be  seen  hours  before  it  is  reached, 
looks  like  a  huge  cone  of  snow.  On  the  steep  side  of  one 
mountain  is  a  wonderful  likeness  of  a  human  hand,  as  if  in 
the  early  days,  when  the  earth  was  young,  and  produced  mon 
sters  in  size,  some  monstrous  man,  while  climbing  up  the  height, 


THROUGH   THE    NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  145 

had  left  his  hand  clutching  the  granite  bluff,  probably  cut  off 
by  a  foe,  leaving  the  body  to  tumble  down  to  death. 

Breaks  in  these  granite  walls  are  utilized  by  loggers  for  lum 
ber-shoots,  some  of  which  have  slides  several  thousand  feet  long. 
One  that  I  saw  led  into  the  water  from  the  very  summit  of  the 
mountain  at  an  angle  of  almost  sixty  degrees.  The  great  logs 
come  rushing  down  this  fearful  shoot  with  the  noise  of  thun 
der.  Once  a  workman  was  making  some  repairs  in  the  shoot. 
This  was  not  known  in  the  camp  above.  A  huge  tree  was  sent 
crashing  down.  The  unfortunate  man  was  never  seen  again. 

Having  passed  the  grandest  part  of  the  Columbia  scenery,  I 
took  a  buck-board  barouche  at  a  small  pass  in  the  mountains, 
and  started  overland  for  the  British  frontier.  A  long,  winding 
road  brought  us  to  the  summit  of  the  high  bluffs  overlooking 
the  river.  In  an  hour  more  we  reached  a  quiet  little  village 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea — no  whiskey,  the  people  being 
prohibitionists,  and  little  water,  the  town  being  on  an  arid 
plain.  The  people  here  seemed  to  take  life  easy  ;  they  walked 
about  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  apparently  with  noth 
ing  to  do.  Between  Spokane  Falls  and  the  frontier  the  buck- 
board  barouche  took  us  through  a  valley  ranging  in  width  from 
one  to  five  miles,  hemmed  in  on  both  sides  by  tall  mountains. 

The  average  traveller  of  to-day,  accustomed  to  Pullman 
sleepers,  can  hardly  conceive  what  fatigue  and  discomfort  are 
comprised  in  a  buck-board  trip  of  only  a  few  hundred  miles. 
To  go  in  a  Pullman  sleeper  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco, 
three  thousand  miles,  really  amounts  to  no  more  than  shutting 
yourself  up  in  a  hotel  for  a  week.  On  the  other  hand,  bouncing 
up  and  down  over  a  hundred  miles  of  Western  roads  on  a  buck- 
board  barouche  is  an  experience  I  would  not  recommend  a 
seeker  after  pleasure  to  try.  The  first  day,  you  stand  it  pretty 
well ;  the  second  day,  you  begin  to  feel  as  if  you  had  been 
ground  and  pounded  into  sausage-meat.  I  was  glad  when  my 
duties  in  the  North  were  concluded,  and  buck-board-riding  gave 
way  to  boating.  One  small  hamlet  which  I  had  to  visit  was 
reached  by  boat  up  a  so-called  river  about  thirty  yards  wide. 


146  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

The  stream  empties  into  Puget  Sound,  and  at  low  tide  is  not 
navigable.  Once  a  day  the  miserable  little  boat  stuck  in  the 
mud,  where  it  remained  fast  until  the  tide  rose  and  floated  it 
off.  The  shaggy  limbs  of  tall  spruce-tre^s  almost  met  over  our 
heads,  forming,  with  their  festoons  of  that  funereal-looking 
moss  which  hangs  on  the  trees  of  Louisiana,  a  green  and  shady 
bower.  Where  the  forest  had  been  exterminated  are  waving 
fields  of  tule-grass.  The  general  appearance  of  this  section  is 
not  unlike  Holland.  The  whole  country  has  to  be  diked  to 
avoid  inundation  by  the  sea  at  high  tide.  So  far  little  has 
been  reclaimed.  There  are  some  squatters,  however,  who  have 
located  claims,  and  set  themselves  to  the  herculean  task  of 
walling  out  the  mighty  ocean  and  uprooting  the  dense  forest. 
This  indomitable  energy  and  patience,  if  applied  in  more  civil 
ized  and  productive  fields,  would  bring  a  far  greater  return  than 
is  possible  in  this  wilderness ;  but,  fortunately  for  society,  there 
is  a  pioneer  spirit  which  pushes  on  and  on,  disdainful  of  hard 
ships  and  dangers. 

On  the  boat,  which  ploughed  its  way  up  the  creek  under  the 
bower  of  moss  and  spruce-limbs,  was  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
pioneer  class,  a  plain,  elderly  woman,  who  had  not  been  on  a 
steamboat  for  years.  At  the  first  landing  she  turned  in  great 
alarm,  and  asked  if  the  boat  had  not  struck  a  snag. 

"No,"  I  replied. 

"  But  why  has  it  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  river  ?" 

When  I  called  her  attention  to  the  fact  that  she  happened  to 
be  looking  from  the  wrong  side  of  the  boat,  that  on  the  other 
side  we  were  snugly  tied  to  the  shore,  she  was  relieved ;  the 
relief,  however,  was  only  temporary.  At  every  turn,  at  every 
blowing  of  the  whistle,  she  started,  and  wanted  to  know  if  we 
hadn't  struck  a  snag.  Yet  this  woman  had  bravely  met  and 
endured  the  dangers  and  hardships  of  a  pioneer  life. 

The  following  bit  of  conversation  shows  that  the  spirit  of  in 
quiry  is  active  even  in  the  outposts  of  civilization.  The  hardy 
pioneers  of  the  North-west  Territory  do  not  let  their  minds  be 
come  rusty. 


THROUGH   THE    NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  147 

First  Snohomish  Passenger.  "  I  left  Snohomish  a  day  before 
you.  What's  the  news  ?" 

Second  Snohomish  Passenger.  "  I  don't  know." 

First  S.  P.  "  Well,  something  has  happened,  I'll  be  bound, 
if  we  only  had  the  paper,  and  knew/' 

Second  S.  P.  "Yes,  I  jruess  so.  Something's  always  hap 
pening  in  Snohomish." 

Something  happened  there  on  the  night  of  my  arrival.  In 
the  centre  of  the  rough  log-village  was  a  man  mounted  on  a 
wagon.  Suspended  from  a  pole  was  a  blazing  kerosene  light. 
The  man  had  on  a  plug  hat  and  a  clawhammer  coat,  and  was 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  fifty  or  sixty  rude  backwoodsmen. 

"  Come  right  this  way,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  cried  the  man. 
11  Step  right  up ;  come  up  with  your  aching  teeth  ;  bring  up 
your  old  grinders.  I'll  pull  'em  out  free  gratis  for  nothing ; 
won't  charge  you  a  cent.  No  pain ;  pull  'em  out  soft  and 
sweet.  Come  right  along." 

Numbers  clambered  up  into  the  wagon,  seemingly  actuated 
by  no  other  motive  than  to  test  the  speaker's  ability  to  pull 
teeth  without  charge  and  without  pain.  A  man  in  the  crowd 
with  whom  I  was  talking  suddenly  declared  that  he  believed  he 
would  have  a  tooth  pulled.  After  it  was  out  I  asked  if  it  had 
ached. 

"No;  it  hadn't  hurt  yet,  but  it  mout  have  hurt  soon.  "We 
don't  git  a  chance  like  this  every  day." 

After  the  dentist  had  pulled  a  tooth  for  nearly  every  inhab 
itant  in  the  village,  he  proceeded  to  fill  his  pockets  with  the 
proceeds  of  the  sale  of  a  wonderful  medicine,  that  was  guaran 
teed  to  stop  the  aching  of  the  jaws  he  had  operated  upon.  A 
brilliant  scheme !  First  he  induced  people  to  have  their  teeth 
pulled  "  free  gratis  for  nothing,"  then  he  sold  stuff  at  a  dollar 
a  bottle  warranted  to  stop  the  pain  of  aching  jaws. 

Next  morning,  before  leaving  Snohomish,  I  discovered  that 
our  boat  was  tied  to  a  sort  of  floating  photograph  gallery.  I 
climbed  over  into  it,  and  had  a  chat  with  the  proprietor. 

"  An  easy  life,"  he  said.     "  I  raise  my  sail  and  go  where  I 


148  THE    TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

please.  The  rivers  and  Puget  Sound  together  offer  a  coast-line 
of  more  than  a  thousand  miles.  I  have  been  along  it  all." 

"  Does  it  pay  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  does ;  why  else  should  I  keep  it  up  ?  It  is 
the  only  chance  these  backwoods  people  have  of  getting  photo 
graphs.  They  come  from  the  logging-camps,  from  the  Indian 
reservations,  from,  in  short,  every  section  of  the  country  where 
I  land.  See  here !"  and  he  showed  me  great  numbers  of  pho 
tographs  of  miners  and  loggers,  Indian  braves,  squaws,  and 
babies — in  all  their  war-paint  and  savage  trappings. 

When  a  point  was  reached  where  the  river  was  too  shallow 
to  float  our  little  boat  even  at  high  tide,  I  went  ashore  and  set 
out  on  horseback  for  the  logging-camp,  still  some  miles  distant. 
The  trail  led  through  two  walls  of  tall  ferns,  the  boughs  of  the 
trees  meeting  overhead  making  a  tunnel  arched  over  by  green 
leaves.  It  is  said  this  region  is  not  now  visited  by  hurricanes. 
It  has  not  always  been  exempt.  In  one  place  the  forest  looked 
as  if  it  had  been  the  scene  of  a  battle  of  giants.  Huge  trees  ten 
feet  in  diameter,  torn  up  by  the  roots,  lay  prostrate  upon  the 
earth,  or  piled  one  upon  the  other  in  wild  confusion.  Wind 
storms  producing  this  terrible  result,  however,  are  rare.  A  more 
frequent,  and  therefore  greater,  danger  is  fire.  During  the  sum 
mer  and  early  fall,  all  Washington  Territory  is  overhung  by  the 
smoke  arising  from  the  forest  fires  which,  once  begun,  continue 
weeks  and  months  burning  so  fiercely  that  it  seems  impossible  to 
check  them.  The  flames  leap  across  clear  spaces  of  half  a  mile 
and  more  in  width,  set  fire  to  the  timber  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  clearing,  and  rage  on  furiously.  A  logger.,  who  was  flee 
ing  from  the  flames  as  fast  as  his  horse  could  carry  him,  had 
a  box  of  matches  in  his  pocket.  The  intense  heat  of  the  air 
ignited  the  matches,  his  clothing  caught  fire,  and  the  poor  log 
ger  was  burned  to  death. 

A  logger-camp  is  necessarily  on  the  very  outskirts  of  civil 
ization.  A  path  ten  feet  wide  is  blazed  through  the  forest  to 
the  banks  of  the  nearest  stream.  In  this  path  are  put,  at  inter 
vals  of  five  or  ten  feet,  logs  like  the  sleepers  of  a  railroad-bed. 


THROUGH    THE    NORTH-AVEST   TERRITORY. 


149 


These  rude  sleepers  are  well  greased.  Trees  are  then  cut,  and 
the  trunks  dragged  by  oxen  over  the  greased  sleepers  to  the 
water,  where  they  remain  until  the  winter  rains  fill  the  stream 
enough  to  float  the  trees  to  market.  It  is  quite  a  sight  to  see 


LOGGERS   IN   WINTER. 

twelve  or  sixteen  oxen  pulling  a  huge  tree  ten  feet  thick  by  one 
hundred  feet  long  over  the  greased  sleepers.  To  get  a  single  log 
into  the  water  sometimes  requires  several  days.  Once  there, 
it  is  worth,  if  one  of  the  long,  straight  kinds  used  for  ship- 
masts,  anywhere  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  The  average  logger  hiring  out  to  the  owner  of  a  tim- 


150  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

ber  claim  is  paid  from  sixty  to  a  hundred  dollars  a  month. 
This  is  less  per  day  than  the  Mississippi  River  loggers  earn, 
though  it  is  more  per  year.  The  Mississippi  logger  earns  three 
dollars  and  a  half  a  day  during  only  seven  or  eight  months  a 
year.  Even  part  of  that  period  is  so  cold  that  the  unfortunate 
logger,  wading  about  in  ice-water  after  logs,  generally  catches 
rheumatism  as  well  as  logs.  In  the  remote  logging-camps  of 
Washington  Territory  the  men  can  work,  if  they  wish,  the  year 
round.  This,  however,  is  seldom  done.  Life  in  the  backwoods, 
with  no  amusements  or  neighbors,  becomes  painfully  monoto 
nous.  The  average  logger  goes  to  town  at  least  twice  a  year, 
where  he  too  often  gets  drunk,  and  foolishly  spends  the  results 
of  his  hard  labor  in  the  primeval  forests. 

A  somewhat  surprising  fact  noted  is  that  even  the  smallest 
and  most  remote  towns  of  Washington  Territory  have  a  free 
library  and  reading-room — not,  of  course,  on  a  large  scale,  but 
enough  to  indicate  the  spirit  of  the  people,  which  is  apparently 
more  liberal  than  in  the  "effete  East."  In  a  log  church  on  an 
island  in  Puget  Sound  I  heard  a  preacher  discourse  to  his  flock 
upon  the  propriety  of  enacting  a  Sunday  law  then  being  agi 
tated. 

"To  require  by  law  an  observance  of  Sunday  would  be  un 
just,"  the  preacher  said.  "  You  may  be  a  Jew,  and  wish  to 
observe  Saturday  ;  or  a  Mohammedan,  and  wish  to  make  Friday 
your  Sabbath  ;  or  an  Atheist,  and  wish  to  keep  no  day  at  all. 
Wherefore,  brethren,  I  think  the  law  should  leave  this  matter 
with  each  man's  conscience,  with  each  man's  individual  under 
standing  of  the  Word  of  God." 

Where  in  the  East  can  a  preacher  be  found  promulgating  so 
liberal  a  doctrine  as  this  ? 

Pugct  Sound  is  like  a  chain  of  Lake  Genevas,  only  more 
grand,  more  beautiful.  It  has  not  only  the  steep  mountain 
sides  of  Lake  Geneva,  but  is  studded  with  islands,  some  of  which 
shoot  up  into  mountain-peaks  direct  from  the  water.  A  race 
of  Brobdingnags  might  build  here  a  noble  Venice.  The  canals 
wind  in  and  about  a  hundred  isles  just  as  the  Venetian  canals, 


THROUGH   THE    NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  151 

only  in  Pnget  Sound  they  arc  on  a  grander  scale.  The  islands 
are  larger,  and  instead  of  being  adorned  with  Italian  palaces, 
arc  grand  with  rocky  bluffs  and  precipitous  heights.  These  ca 
nals,  instead  of  being  ten  or  fifteen  feet  wide,  are  (the  narrow 
est)  a  hundred  yards  wide.  Life  on  these  grand  canals  is,  in  its 
way,  as  interesting  as  that  which  the  gay  Venetians  see  in  their 
gondolas  with  tinkling  guitars.  I  saw  an  Indian  dugout,  made 
from  a  huge  log  one  hundred  feet  long  and  ten  feet  wide.  Sev 
enty-five  Indians  were  in  it,  on  their  way  from  Alaska  to  the 
hop-fields  of  Washington  Territory,  where  they  earn  during  the 
season  (September  and  October)  $1  or  $1.25  a  day  picking  hops. 
The  chain  of  islands  for  a  thousand  miles  along  the  coast  of 
North-west  America  almost  entirely  shuts  out  the  ocean.  At 
the  end  of  the  hop  season  the  Indian  paddles  his  own  canoe 
back  to  Alaska  as  safely  and  easily  as  if  on  an  inland  creek. 

The  work  which  the  Indians  obtain  in  the  hop-fields  has  pro 
duced  a  marked  effect  upon  them.  Many  who  come  from  the 
reservation  merely  to  work  a  few  weeks  in  September  grow  ac 
customed  to  work  and  fond  of  the  profits  of  labor,  and  engage 
in  steady  occupations,  voluntarily  giving  up  the  support  on  the 
reservations  tendered  them  by  the  Government.  On  the  streets 
of  Seattle  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  an  Indian  walking 
along  in  a  gaudy  jacket  and  a  plug  hat;  and  his  wife  —  no 
longer  his  squaw — wears  a  blanket  and  a  bustle.  The  effect  of 
mixing  civilized  follies  with  savage  simplicity  is  funny  enough. 

Starting  south  from  Semiahmoo,  a  queer  little  town  built 
out  into  the  sea  on  piles,  I  was  landed  at  ten  o'clock  at  night 
on  a  lonely  island,  there  to  await  the  chance  of  a  fisherman's 
boat  to  carry  me  to  Victoria,  British  Columbia.  A  walk  of 
four  miles  through  a  dense  forest  brought  me  to  the  west  side 
of  the  island ;  there  I  lay  down,  thinking  of  Robinson  Crusoe 
and  wondering  if  he  felt  any  more  lonely  than  I  then  did  on 
that  desert  island  in  Puget  Sound.  No  sign  of  humanity  was 
visible,  only  high  bluffs  and  snow-capped  mountains,  and  a 
dark,  dense  forest.  Next  morning,  strolling  along  the  beach,  I 
came  across  the  ruins  of  a  fisher's  hut  on  a  sand-hill  a  few 


152  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

yards  above  high  tide.  The  roof  was  fallen  in  ;  on  the  rotten 
floor  lay  a  lot  of  fishing-tackle — nets,  old  rubber  boots,  and 
half-decayed  clothing.  Back  of  the  tumble-down  hut  was  a 
lonely  grave.  It  was  not  a  cheerful  place  ;  I  was  glad  when  a 
fisherman's  boat  carried  me  over  to  Victoria.  The  entrance  to 
that  sleepy  and  thoroughly  English  town  is  through  a  narrow 
gate-way  in  the  sea.  Our  little  fishing-smack  passed  along  at 
the  base  of  high  cliffs  that  hid  all  view  of  the  town  lying  so 
snugly  hid  in  the  valley  beyond.  A  sudden  turn  of  the  rudder 
brings  the  boat  into  a  gap  in  the  high  cliffs,  and  we  are  in  the 
harbor  of  British  Columbia's  capital. 

Down  the  centre  of  the  principal  street  of  Victoria  is  strung 
a  line  of  hansom  cabs,  just  as  they  are  strung  out  in  the  centre 
of  High  Holborn  in  London.  An  American  whom  I  met  on 
the  dock  was  astonished  at  the  difference  between  the  people  of 
Victoria  and  the  people  of  American  towns  so  near.  We  saw 
some  men  at  work  on  the  dock  making  repairs. 

"  By  gosh !"  exclaimed  the  American,  "  they  commenced 
building  that  dock  when  I  was  here  six  years  ago,  and  dash 
me  if  they've  finished  her  yet." 

In  Olympia,  a  hundred-and-fifty-mile  stage  journey  lay  before 
me. 

"  What  sort  of  a  stage  have  yon  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  a  thorough-brace,  of  course,"  replied  the  agent. 

"  Oh,  if  it's  a  thorough-brace  I'm  all  right,"  I  said,  and  re 
turned  to  the  hotel.  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  a  thor 
ough-brace  was,  and  trusted  to  luck  to  come  out  alive  from  that 
perilous  journey. 

The  road  was  over  high  hills  and  mountains.  Only  one 
stretch  of  level  country  was  passed ;  this  was  marked  by  a  pe 
culiar  formation  of  mounds,  whether  natural  or  built  by  Ind 
ians  I  do  not  know.  These  mounds  are  ten  or  fifteen  feet 
high,  and  about  fifty  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base.  For  miles 
and  miles  they  are  close  together  on  either  side  of  the  road. 
When  we  entered  the  forest  again,  after  passing  the  mound 
country,  our  progress  was  stopped  by  the  huge  trunk  of  a  half- 


THROUGH   THE   NORTH-WEST   TERRITORY.  153 

burned  tree  that  lay  stretched  across  the  road.  The  thick 
growth  of  underbrush  and  trees  on  both  sides  of  the  road 
made  it  as  difficult  to  make  a  detour  around  the  fallen  trunk 
as  it  was  to  get  over  it.  Luckily,  the  driver  had  an  axe.  To 
work  we  went — chop,  chop,  chop.  By  midnight  that  big  tree 
was  cut  through  ;  then  several  hours'  more  hard  work  was  spent 
with  stout  oak  poles  rolling  the  log  out  of  the  road.  It  was 
daybreak  before  we  moved  on.  On  the  second  day  we  emerged 
from  the  forest,  and  thence  for  forty  miles  our  way  lay  along 
a  smooth  beach.  The  ocean  roared  in  our  ears,  the  surf  broke 
under  our  wheels.  Thousands  of  sea-gulls  swarmed  on  that 
lonely  beach.  At  the  approach  of  the  stage  they  rose  in  a 
cloud,  flew  ahead  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  where  they  lighted  on 
the  sand  a  moment,  to  rise  again  like  a  cloud  over  our  heads 
as  soon  as  the  stage  rattled  up.  I  saw  an  eagle  swoop  down 
on  a  wild-duck  and  carry  it  up  out  of  sight.  The  sea-gulls  are 
not  afraid  of  eagles;  they  permit  them  to  approach  without 
showing  the  slightest  uneasiness.  Sea-gull  meat  is  so  tough 
that  eagles  and  hawks  do  not  like  it ;  hence  the  gulls'  lack  of 
fear  at  the  approach  of  the  king  of  birds. 

I  had  been  told  that  the  town  whither  I  was  going  was  a 
small  place;  yet  when  the  stage  drove  up,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  we  made  a  way  through  the  crowd  that  thronged  the  street. 
I  went  at  once  to  the  Court-house.  Court  had  adjourned. 

"Where  is  the  judge?" 

"  Gone  to  the  circus." 

I  went  to  the  Post-office  ;  it  was  closed.  A  slate  on  the  door 
informed  me  that  the  postmaster  would  not  be  back  until  after 
the  circus.  A  small  branch  railroad  had  just  been  completed 
to  this  town.  It  was  the  first  circus  that  had  ever  been  there, 
and  the  people  flocked  in  for  a  hundred  miles  around.  A  mot 
ley  crew  of  backwoodsmen  stared  at  the  glaring  posters. 

"What  do  you  call  them  things?"  said  one,  pointing  to  the 
picture  of  a  panther. 

"  That's  a  Bengal  tiger — a  royal  Bengal  tiger,"  replied  a  rug 
ged  old  logger. 


154  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

"  Are  you  not  mistaken  ?"  I  said.    "  That  is  a  panther." 

The  logger  looked  at  me  fiercely. 

"A  panther,  is  it?  I  say  it's  a  Bengal  tiger,  an'  I  think  I 
orter  know.  I've  seed  enough  of  'em  in  Bengal." 

I  thought  it  wise  to  let  it  be  a  "  Bengal." 

Big  tree-choppers  lounged  about,  drinking  red  lemonade  and 
playing  with  toy  balloons  like  so  many  children.  The  whole 
town  and  country  around  was  in  a  state  of  excitement.  I  had 
to  wait  until  the  show  left  before  I  was  able  to  obtain  an  au 
dience  with  the  court  officials. 

The  following  "  personal  "  items  are  clipped  from  the  Kitsap 
County  Pioneer  of  September  10,  1887.  They  are  specimens 
of  Washington  Territory  journalistic  society  notes. 

"  Sachman  Bros.  &  wives,  &  Johnny  Sigo,  took  in  the  circus  Monday." 

"  The  Mason  Journal  had  a  man  shingling  its  roof  yesterday.  He  fell 
from  the  scaffolding  onto  a  stump  &  hurt  himself." 

"  G.  Schultz  has  gone  to  Edison  to  chop  for  Gutherie's  logging-camp. 
He  will  not  be  gone  long,  we  hope." 

"  John  Blakely  has  gone  to  the  Samish  to  work  for  Mr.  Gutherie.  Home 
is  the  best  place,  John." 

This  last  item  shows  the  fatherly  kindness  of  Western  jour 
nalism.  What  Eastern  paper  would  say  in  that  paternal  tone, 
"Home  is  the  best  place,  John?"  How  much  good  the  New 
York  Sun,  World,  Herald,  and  other  influential  journals  might 
do  for  the  hoodlum  element  if  they  would  only  feel  a  fatherly 
interest,  and  persuade  the  boys  that  home  is  the  best  place ! 


ADVENTURES    IX    IDAHO    AND    NEVADA.  155 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ADVENTURES    IN    IDAHO  AND    NEVADA. 

A  RED-BEARDED  MAN  WHO  DEMANDED  AN  EXPLANATION.  —  CLOTH 
AND  PAPER  HOTELS.— ROUTED  BY  ROACHES. — RUINOUS  INTEREST 
PAID  BY  WESTERN  FARMERS. — A  HARDWARE  DRUMMER  DISCOM 
FITED. — A  HOLE  IN  THE  GROUND  TWO  THOUSAND  FEET  DEEP. — 
AN  ENGLISHMAN  WHO  HAD  BIRD  ON  THE  BRAIN. — WESTERN  STAGE 
COACH  DRIVERS. 

A  GOVERNMENT  special  agent  is  often  called  on  to  do  pecul 
iar  work.  Congress  having  passed  a  special  act  directing  the 
Labor  Department  to  gather  statistics  concerning  marriages 
and  divorces,  I  temporarily  abandoned  my  labor  investigations 
and  began  looking  np  divorce  records,  and  the  causes  of  marital 
infelicity  in  the  North-western  States  and  Territories.  On  the 
way  from  Portland  to  Idaho,  the  train  stopped  at  Legrand  for 
breakfast.  The  train  porter  had  distributed  to  the  passengers 
circulars  describing  the  beauties  of  the  "Cottage"  restaurant. 
"While  standing  on  the  platform  debating  whether  I  should  go 
to  the  Cottage,  another  man  stepped  up  and  said, 

"  Don't  go  to  the  Cottage ;  it's  the  worst  place  this  side  of 
Jerusalem.  The  restaurant  on  the  other  side  of  the  platform 
is  only  twenty-five  cents,  and  is  the  best,  into  the  bargain." 

He  had  no  sooner  spoken  than  another  fellow  from  behind 
cried, 

"  What  in  thunder  do  you  know  about  the  Cottage  ?  You've 
never  been  there ;"  and  he  proceeded  to  wipe  the  station  plat 
form  with  the  rival  restaurant-man.  Seeing  he  was  the  better 
fighter,  I  thought  his  eating-house  might  also  be  the  better. 
If  it  was,  heaven  save  me  from  the  worse  one !  The  breakfast 
was  horrible  even  for  that  part  of  the  country.  I  was  sick  for 
two  hours  after  eating  it. 


156  THE    TKAMP    AT   HOME. 

Neither  the  train  nor  Pullman  conductor  had  the  slightest 
idea  at  what  station  one  should  get  off  to  take  the  stage  for 
Boise  City,  the  capital  of  Idaho.  I  questioned  a  number  of 
the  passengers;  the  majority  advised  Kuna,  a  miserable  little 
hamlet  of  four  inhabitants — the  railroad  agent,  the  hotel-keep- 
rer,  ihe  store-keeper,  and  the  stage-driver.  It  was  nearly  mid 
night  when  I  was  put  off  at  Kuna,  which  is  in  the  midst  of  an 
alkali  desert.  Six  passengers  also  wanted  to  go  to  Boise  City. 
The  stage  had  seats  for  only  five.  We  drew  lots  to  see  who 
should  stay  behind.  I  was  one  of  the  fortunate  five.  In  com 
pany  with  a  sheep-rancher,  a  school-teacher,  and  a  couple  of 
cowboys,  I  started  off  in  the  night  across  the  weary  wastes  of 
alkali  desert.  It  was  pitch-dark;  we  could  not  see  the  dust, 
but  we  felt  and  tasted  it.  The  school-teacher  wore  a  rubber 
coat  to  keep  the  dust  out.  He  said  he  had  lived  in  Idaho  for 
years,  and  had  always  to  wear  rubber  to  keep  the  dust  from 
ruining  his  clothing.  For  some  hours  we  rode  on  in  silence ; 
then  it  was  broken  by  the  cowboy.  I  felt  something  in  the 
dark  pawing  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  nose. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  My  tickler ;  take  a  swig ;"  said  the  generous  cowboy,  who 
seemed  to  be  as  much  astonished  when  I  told  him  I  never 
drank  whiskey,  as  if  I  had  said  I  never  ate  bread  and  meat.  He 
pawed  around  in  the  dark  until  he  found  the  hands  of  the 
school-teacher.  The  latter  drank,  as  I  could  tell  by  the  gurgle; 
then  the  sheep-man  took  a  pull. 

"  I  say,  pard,  don't  I  hear  water  a-gurgling  in  there  ?" 

"Guess  you  do,"  responded  the  cowboy,  cheerfully. 

"  Well,  why  doncher  pass  her  this  way  ?"  continued  the  driver. 

The  tickler  was  passed  up,  and  the  gurgling  indicated  a 
liberal  quantity  swallowed.  This  operation  was  repeated  so 
often  that  I  began  to  have  fears  as  to  our  safety.  The  road 
in  many  places  wound  along  steep  bluffs,  heights  above  and 
precipices  below.  Steady  nerves  and  a  clear  brain  were  desir 
able  in  a  driver  on  that  road.  However,  there  was  no  accident, 
and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  stage  rattled  across 


ADVENTURES  IN  IDAHO  AND  NEVADA.       157 

the  bridge  over  the  Boise  River  into  the  Territory's  capital — a 
busy,  live  Western  town  of  throe  thousand  inhabitants.  The 
Government  buildings,  as  the  United  States  Assay  House,  the 
Capitol,  Court-house,  etc.,  are  handsome  edifices,  made  of  stone 
and  brick.  The  surrounding-  hills  are  bleak  and  bare.  No 
trees  or  grass.  The  beautiful  little  capital,  with  its  running 
streams  of  water  in  the  streets,  its  trees  and  green  grass,  is  like 
an  oasis  in  the  desert.  On  a  green  plot  between  the  Capitol 
building  and  the  Town  School  is  a  large  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington.  The  statue,  which  was  carved  out  of  a  huge 
piece  of  wood  by  a  carpenter,  is  gilded,  and  presents  a  very 
striking  appearance. 

One  of  the  divorce  cases  in  Boise  City  was  that  of  Judge 

X ,  whose  wife  had  run  away  with  another  man.  There 

were  a  number  of  sensational  episodes  connected  with  the  case, 
and  the  judge  was  told  by  some  practical  joker  that  I  intended 
using  it  on  that  account  and  reporting  it  in  full.  I  was  aston 
ished  next  morning  to  see  a  large,  red-bearded  man  walk  into 
my  room  at  the  hotel  without  so  much  as  knocking,  and  in 
form  me,  with  a  resolute  air,  that  he  meant  to  have  an  expla 
nation. 

"  What  is  there  to  explain  ?" 

"  What  in  thunderation  has  the  public  to  do  with  my  di 
vorce  ?" 

"  Nothing,  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"Why,  then,  are  you  going  to  publish  a  report  of  it?" 

"I  am  not." 

When  I  explained  that  the  investigation  took  no  account 
of  names,  but  was  purely  statistical,  the  red-bearded  man  was 
mollified,  and  extended  a  cordial  invitation  to  "  licker." 

Placerville,  a  small  village  forty-five  miles  from  Boise  City, 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  mining  district.  The  hills  around  this 
town  are  rich  with  gold.  The  precious  metal  is  washed  from 
the  very  surface  of  the  earth.  The  miners  live  for  months  at 
a  time  in  miserable  cabins,  eat  bacon  and  beans,  and  once  a 
year  go  to  Placerville,  where  they  pay  up  old  debts,  then  do 


158  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

what  is  called  "  blow  in  "  the  rest  of  their  year's  income  at 
poker.  A  game  which  was  begun  the  night  of  my  arrival 
(Friday)  did  not  end  until  Monday  morning.  For  sixty  hours 
the  players  sat  around  the  table,  their  meals  being  brought  to 
them,  and  played  until  they  were  too  exhausted  to  sit  up 
longer. 

Going  from  Boise  City  to  Silver  City  in  a  hired  team,  we 
passed  a  saloon  that  apparently  expected  to  draw  on  coyotes 
alone  for  patronage.  There  was  no  human  life  near  :  this 
pioneer  dram-shop  was  set  down  in  the  midst  of  the  desert. 
Our  driver  was  about  to  pass  by  without  stopping,  when  a 
seedy-looking  man  emerged  from  the  saloon  and  said, 

"Air  you  gentlemen  goin'  to  Silver?" 

"  We  are." 

"  Then  I  must  tax  you  half  a  dollar." 

"  Tax  us  for  what  ?" 

"  For  the  toll." 

"  Is  this  a  toll-gate  ?" 

"  No,  but  the  gate  is  up  the  road  a  piece.  I  came  down 
here  to  get  a  drink.  You  can  pay  me  here." 

I  asked  the  driver  his  opinion.  He  had  never  been  over  the 
road,  and  did  not  know  whether  there  was  a  toll-gate  or  not. 
As  the  seedy  man  insisted,  however,  I  paid  his  tax  of  fifty 
cents  rather  than  have  trouble.  When  we  had  gone  some  five 
miles  without  coming  to  a  toll-gate,  I  set  the  man.  down  as  a 
fraud ;  but  he  was  not.  Six  miles  from  the  saloon  we  came 
to  a  small  shanty  that  had  a  pole  reaching  out  from  one  end 
across  the  road.  It  was  deserted  ;  but  as  we  had  paid  the  toll, 
we  did  not  scruple  to  pass  on.  The  driver  got  down,  pulled 
the  pole  aside,  and  on  we  drove.  The  rest  of  the  ride  to  Silver 
City  was  over  rough  hills  and  mountains.  We  passed  pack- 
trains  of  donkeys  loaded  with  ore  from  the  mines,  scaled  the 
Owyhee  Mountains,  and  at  last  reached  Silver  City. 

The  most  conspicuous  object  in  this  place,  as  in  most  of  the 
"cities"  of  Idaho,  is  the  cemetery — a  bare  plot  of  ground 
almost  in  the  heart  of  the  town. 


ADVENTURES    IN    IDAHO    AND    NEVADA.  159 

"  Why  are  the  cemeteries  placed  so  near  town  ?" 

"So  as  to  be  handy -like,"  answered  a  red-nosed  inhab 
itant. 

After  coming  this  long  journey,  I  found  only  eleven  divorce 
cases.  To  get  the  information  concerning  those  eleven  cases 
cost  the  Government  nearly  thirty  dollars.  There  was  no 
Court-house  proper.  The  papers  were  in  an  old  assay  office. 
The  District  Court  clerk,  who  was  also  the  Wells  Fargo  agent, 
gave  me  the  keys  to  the  office.  I  went  up  to  the  deserted 
room,  and  rummaged  around  in  the  dust  until  I  found  the 
papers  of  the  eleven  couples  who  could  not  live  happily 
together.  Some  time  previous  to  my  visit  the  Court-house 
had  been  set  on  fire  by  a  man  condemned  to  death,  and  burned 
to  the  ground.  The  murderer  did  not  escape.  He  and  a 
Chinaman  were  roasted  alive. 

The  one  hotel  in  Silver  City  is  what  is  called  a  "  cloth  and 
paper"  house.  The  partitions  are  made  of  rough  boards  cov 
ered  with  cheap  cloth  and  then  papered.  When  I  lighted  the 
candle  in  my  room,  which  was  a  mere  closet,  a  swarm  of  big 
black  roaches  scampered  out  from  their  hundred  holes  and 
seemed  inclined  to  dispute  possession.  I  set  a  newspaper  on 
fire  and  tried  to  smoke  them  out.  The  smoke  hurt  the  roaches 
less  than  it  did  me,  and  I  was  compelled  to  share  my  room 
with  them. 

During  the  night  four  inches  of  snow  fell.  The  month  was 
August.  Our  cloth  and  paper  house  did  not  keep  out  the 
cold.  Not  prepared  for  cloth  and  paper  houses  and  snow,  I 
almost  froze  that  August  day.  It  was  snowing  when  we  took 
the  stage  for  Weiser  City.  The  passengers,  in  summer  cloth 
ing  and  linen  dusters,  shivered  and  shrunk  up  with  cold.  We 
were  a  dismal-looking  set.  The  stage  stopped  at  Kuna.  Four 
cowboys  slept  in  the  room  where  I  slept.  Their  snoring  dur 
ing  the  whole  night  was  worse  than  the  buzzing  of  a  saw-mill. 
The  next  night,  at  Weiser  City,  we  had  a  different  sort  of 
entertainment.  A  travelling  dentist  was  operating  on  his 
patients.  Their  groans  and  grunts  came  to  me  through  the 


160  THE    TRAMP  AT   HOME. 

thin  board  partition.  The  last  person  operated  upon  was  the 
hotel  chamber-maid.  While  filing  and  filling  the  chamber 
maid's  teeth,  the  sympathizing  dentist  tried  to  alleviate  the 
pain  of  his  patient  by  talking  love.  Tap,  tap,  tap  went  the 
dentist's  hammer,  and  between  the  dental  taps  the  dentist's 
voice  threw  in  words  of  love  which  no  doubt  made  the  opera 
tion  less  painful. 

A  man  at  the  hotel,  an  agent  of  a  Boston  loan  company,  was 
travelling  about  looking  at  the  farms,  to  see  if  they  were  good 
security.  He  said  that  the  farmers  pay  as  high  interest  as 
eighteen  per  cent.,  and  that  the  lowest  they  pay  is  fifteen  per 
cent.  On  this  subject  an  editorial  in  the  St.  Louis  Republican 
says, 

"There  is  not  a  single  one  of  the  twenty-nine  agricultural 
States  that  is  not,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  under  mortgage 
to  the  money-lending  creditor  States.  These  mortgages  on 
farms  and  railroads  represent  an  enormous  aggregate.  In  Kan 
sas  it  is  estimated  that  one-half  of  the  entire  wealth  of  the 
State  is  mortgaged  to  the  industrial  States;  and  even  the  older 
Western  States — Ohio,  Illinois,  Minnesota,  Michigan,  and  Indi 
ana — are  mortgaged  to  the  extent  of  twenty  to  thirty-three  per 
cent,  of  their  farms  and  their  railroads.  It  is  stated  that  the  in 
surance  companies  of  Hartford,  Connecticut,  hold  $70,000,000 
in  Western  farm  mortgages ;  that  the  loan  companies  hold  one 
thousand  mortgages,  representing  $76,000,000 ;  and  in  the  lit 
tle  State  of  New  Hampshire  Western  farm  mortgages  to  the 
amount  of  $35,000,000  are  held.  If  the  whole  debt  claimed 
by  the  manufacturing  States  on  the  farms  and  railroads  of  the 
agricultural  States  could  be  ascertained,  it  would  probably  be 
not  less  than  $3,000,000,000,  bearing  an  annual  interest  of 
$180,000,000.  ...  It  is  no  wonder  the  manufacturing  States 
have  grown  enormously  rich  under  the  Federal  policy  of  the 
last  twenty-six  years.  They  have  shaped  that  policy  in  its  two 
most  practical  features — revenue  and  finance — and  shaped  it 
with  such  effect  as  to  make  themselves  owners  of  one-half  of 
the  entire  wealth  of  the  country,  and  to  force  the  agricult- 


ADVENTURES   IN  IDAHO   AND   NEVADA.  161 

ural  States  to  pay  them  $180,000,000  a  year  in  interest 
alone."* 

New  England,  with  its  twelve  votes  in  the  Senate  to  the 
two  votes  of  any  other  State  (New  England  is,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  one  State — one  in  interest,  in  feeling),  lias  long 
enjoyed  a  monopoly  of  power  in  shaping  the  policy  of  the 
Government,  and,  as  we  see,  has  exerted  that  power  to  impose 
robbing  tariff  laws  on  the  people,  under  the  specious  plea  of 
protecting  them. 

There  was  only  one  divorce  case  in  Asotin,  Washington  Ter 
ritory.  Asotin  is  a  remote  place,  difficult  of  access,  but  the 
Government  wanted  that  divorce  reported.  Accordingly,  I  took 
the  train  to  Riparia,  thence  took  a  boat  up  Snake  River  to 
Lewiston,  and  there  took  a  team  for  Asotin,  which  has  one  hun 
dred  and  twenty -five  inhabitants,  and  had  one  divorce  case. 
The  office  of  the  court  clerk  is  a  shanty  set  in  the  centre  of  a 
watermelon-patch.  I  went  to  the  shanty  office,  dined  on  water 
melon,  then  started  for  the  Court-house.  The  North-west  is  so 
vast,  and  the  people  are  so  migratory,  that  great  distances  are 
not  considered.  Sheriffs  think  nothing  of  bringing  jurors  and 
witnesses  fifty  or  a  hundred  miles :  a  mile  or  two  deserves  no 
notice.  Court-houses  are  sometimes  set  upon  high  places  diffi 
cult  of  access.  The  Court-house  in  Asotin  is  on  the  top  of  a 
mountain  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  high.  I  was  three-quar 
ters  of  an  hour  reaching  it. 

"  It's  good  to  take  the  wind  out  of  the  lawyers,"  said  the 
district  clerk,  when  I  asked  why  the  Court-house  was  built  on 
the  top  of  that  lonely  hill. 

Snake  River,  in  some  places,  is  lined  on  both  sides  by  bluffs 
of  basalt  rock  a  thousand  feet  high  ;  in  other  places  it  has  mud- 
banks  about  as  picturesque  as  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi.  It 
was  in  one  of  these  mud-bank  districts  that  I  saw  a  hardware 


*  According  to  the  Michigan  Labor  Commissioner,  February,  1888,  the 
mortgages  on  farms  in  the  single  State  of  Michigan  amount  to  $64,000,000, 
paying  an  annual  interest  of  $5,000,000. 


162  THE    TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

drummer  put  to  flight  by  a  rough  backwoodsman.  A  ware 
house  in  Lewiston  had  been  set  afloat  in  the  flood  during  a 
big  rise  in  Snake  River  the  preceding  spring.  The  warehouse 
drifted  eight  miles  down  the  river  to  a  village  called  Alpowa. 
There,  running  against  a  rock,  it  was  demolished,  and  the  two 
heavy  iron  safes  sank  in  deep  water.  No  effort  was  made  to 
get  the  safes  out  until  the  flood  subsided ;  then  it  was  discov 
ered  that  an  enterprising  ferry-man  had  already  hauled  them 
out,  and  refused  to  let  the  owner  have  them  until  he  was  paid 
salvage.  When  our  steamboat  ran  her  nose  into  the  mud-bank, 
and  the  purser  went  ashore  for  the  safe,  the  old  ferry-man  was 
firm.  He  stood  by,  shot-gun  in  hand,  ready  to  shoot  any  man 
who  attempted  to  touch  "  them  safes."  Then  it  was  that  the 
hardware  drummer,  who  had  been  boring  the  passengers  with 
his  efforts  at  wit,  came  to  the  fore. 

"I  say,  old  man,"  he  called  out,  complacently,  "let  him  have 
the  safes.  Don't  you  know  the  company  is  going  to  give  you 
a  Christmas  present  of  a  hundred  dollars?" 

"  I  knowed  you  belonged  to  the  donkey  tribe,"  said  the 
ferry-man,  grimly,  as  he  slowly  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder; 
then  he  added,  "Git  off  that  deck,  or  I'll  give  you  a  good  hun 
dred  shot,  as  sure's  my  name's  Bill  Plover.  Git !" 

The  way  that  hardware  drummer  dodged  out  of  sight  was 
funny.  We  all  laughed,  although  any  of  us  would  have  trotted 
off  as  fast  as  the  drummer,  had  two  gun-barrels  stared  us  in 
the  face,  and  two  eyes  glared  at  us  as  they  did  at  that  facetious 
gentleman. 

Lewiston  was  formerly  the  capital  of  Idaho,  but  the  people 
of  Boise  City  made  a  raid  on  the  town  one  day,  took  the  rec 
ords  by  main  force,  and  removed  them  to  Boise  City ;  since 
which  bold  move  the  latter  town  has  been  the  Territory's  cap 
ital. 

Mr.  O.  K.  Ben,  who  drives  the  stage  from  Lewiston  to  Mount 
Idaho,  a  distance  of  seventy  miles,  is  noted  for  fast  driving.  I 
saw  along  the  road-side  the  skeletons  of  the  poor  horses  he 
had  driven  to  death.  At  Craig  Mountain,  where  the  second 


ADVENTURES    IN    IDAHO    AND    NEVADA.  163 

change  of  horses  was  made,  a  young  fellow  about  eighteen  years 
old,  wearing  a  slouched  hat,  the  broad  brim  of  which  drooped 
down  over  his  back,  eyed  me  suspiciously.  Presently  he  drawl 
ed  out, 

"  Air  you  the  gentleman  what  drives  the  Dayton  stage  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

A  sigh  of  relief  came  from  under  the  slouched  hat,  and  the 
young  man  continued,  in  a  more  friendly  way, 

"  Well,  it's  darned  lucky  you  ain't." 

I  asked  him  to  explain,  but  he  refused  to  say  anything  fur 
ther.  When  we  were  on  the  way  again,  the  driver  told  us  that 
the  boy  in  the  slouched  hat  was  sunk  up  to  its  brim  in  love  with 
Miss  Selina  Smith.  The  Dayton  driver  had  once  driven  Miss 
Smith  across  the  mountains,  and  the  lovelorn  youth,  imagining 
that  the  driver  was  trying  to  cut  him  out,  became  madly  jeal 
ous,  and  had  been  on  the  lookout  for  his  supposed  rival  ever 
since. 

"  If  you'd  told  him  you  was  the  Dayton  feller,"  said  our 
driver,  "he'd  have  popped  away  at  you  sure  as  shootin'.  He 
keeps  a  six-shooter  ready  for  that  Dayton  man  !" 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  never  aspire  to  the  affec 
tions  of  Miss  Selina  Smith,  and  under  no  circumstances  would 
I  ever  escort  Miss  Smith  across  the  mountains. 

At  7  P.M.  we  reached  Mount  Idaho,  a  very  pretty  little 
place  at  the  base  of  a  high  mountain.  The  hotel  in  Mount 
Idaho  was  about  the  worst  I  ever  saw.  The  room  was  a  little 
box.  The  dust  on  the  pillow  was  so  thick  that  it  choked  me 
as  my  head  fell  on  it.  There  were  no  sheets,  only  dirty-look 
ing  blankets.  The  prospect  of  staying  there  three  days  was 
not  inspiriting ;  so  I  resolved,  if  possible,  to  examine  the  court 
papers  that  night,  and  leave  by  the  stage  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  After  disposing  of  a  sloppy  supper,  I  went  to  the 
house  of  the  district  clerk.  He  had  just  gone  to  his  ranch, 
fifteen  miles  away.  If  I  could  not  do  the  work  that  night  and 
take  the  stage  next  morning,  I  would  be  obliged  to  stay  three 
days.  There  would  be  no  stage  until  then.  I  went  to  the 


164  THE   TKAMP  AT   HOME. 

auditor,  and  told  him  that  I  must  get  into  the  Court-house  that 
night.  The  auditor  hunted  up  a  crowbar  and  a  chisel.  By 
nine  o'clock  the  door  was  forced  open,  and  the  record  of  divorces 
lay  before  me.  I  often  felt  that  it  is  ghoulish  work  at  best 
to  dig  up  the  records  of  marital,  misery ;  it  seemed  particularly 
ghoulish  and  gloomy  there  in  that  silent  and  dimly  lighted 
court-room.  I  just  did  get  through  in  time  to  take  the  stage 
when  it  rattled  up  to  the  door. 

Walla  Walla  is  a  pretty  town  of  over  five  thousand  inhabi 
tants,  yet  has  only  one  hotel,  and  a  bad  one  at  that.  The 
night  before  my  arrival  the  Court-house  had  almost  fallen 
down.  It  was  a  three-story  building.  The  jail  was  on  the 
ground-floor,  and  the  county  officials  had  their  offices  on  the 
second.  The  court-room  was  on  the  third  floor.  The  crack 
in  the  wall  began  in  the  rear  near  the  roof.  The  floors  of 
all  the  offices  were  sagging  badly,  and  there  was  no  knowing 
when  the  rear  wall  would  spring  out  farther  and  fall  in  a  heap. 
I  hunted  up  the  clerk,  and  asked  him  what  was  to  be  done. 

"  You  can't  get  at  the  papers,"  said  the  county  clerk,  em 
phatically  ;  "  the  whole  thing  may  collapse  at  any  moment." 

"  But  I  must  see  the  papers.     I  can't  stay  here  indefinitely." 

"  If  you  get  into  our  graveyard  I  guess  you'll  stay  here  a 
pretty  good  while,  and  I  don't  know  of  a  better  way  to  get 
there  than  to  go  into  the  Court-house  and  let  the  roof  fall  on 
you." 

I  idled  around  the  town  a  day  or  two  waiting  for  something 
to  turn  up;  but  nothing  turned  up,  neither  did  anything  tum 
ble  down.  Not  a  man  went  near  the  Court-house.  It  was 
completely  abandoned.  On  the  third  day  I  went  to  the  clerk, 
and  told  him  I  believed  I  would  risk  it.  He  said  he  didn't 
know  of  any  law  to  keep  a  man  from  killing  himself  if  he 
wanted  to  do  so,  and  gave  me  the  keys.  I  walked  up  the  steps 
as  softly  as  possible,  and  entered  the  office  over  the  jail.  The 
floor  was  slanting  in  an  alarming  way ;  the  crack  in  the  ceiling 
overhead  made  me  weak  in  the  knees.  I  worked  like  a  steam- 
engine  until  dark,  and  when  safely  outside  felt  like  saying 


ADVENTURES    IN    IDAHO    AND    NEVADA.  165 

prayers  of  thankfulness.  Next  day  I  tried  it  again,  and  by 
hard  work  finished  all  the  papers  by  noon. 

In  Virginia  City  the  court  papers  were  formerly  kept  in  a 
cave  blasted  out  of  the  rock  under  the  Court-house.  The  Court 
house  itself  was  a  frame  shanty,  and  the  papers  were  lowered 
into  the  cave  every  night  to  keep  them  safe.  One  night  a  fire 
burned  down  the  shanty  Court-house.  The  papers  in  the  cave 
were  all  safe  and  sound,  except  that  they  got  covered  with  soot 
and  ashes.  After  working  over  them,  I  looked  like  a  chimney 
sweep  or  a  coal-heaver. 

The  earth  under  Virginia  City  is  honey-combed  with  silver- 
mines,  some  of  them  thousands  of  feet  deep.  The  miners 
make  $4  a  day,  and  can  work  on  Sundays  if  they  choose. 
Many  of  the  miners  whom  I  saw  were  educated  gentlemen,  who 
preferred  this  work  to  book-keeping  or  clerical  employments 
that  are  more  confining  and  less  remunerative  than  silver-min 
ing.  The  men  work  in  eight-hour  shifts.  They  are  allowed  to 
go  to  the  cooling  chamber  at  frequent  intervals.  No  one  im 
mediately  overlooks  or  commands  them.  "When  they  come  out 
of  the  mines  they  dress  like  gentlemen,  and  have  a  good  time. 
The  ex-lawyers  whom  I  saw  two  thousand  feet  under  the  city, 
naked  to  the  waist,  digging  silver,  said  they  liked  that  better 
than  waiting  for  briefs  that  never  came. 

The  Western  stage-driver  lives  on  the  box  seat  of  his  stage, 
wears  coarse  clothing,  eats  bad  food,  smokes  bad  tobacco,  and 
drinks  worse  whiskey.  Were  his  wages  three  times  what  they 
are,  he  would  wear  no  better  clothing,  eat  no  better  food,  smoke 
no  better  tobacco,  drink  no  better  whiskey.  He  is  silent  when 
not  drunk,  and  is  happy  only  when  holding  the  reins  of  six  or 
eight  horses.  He  keeps  at  his  feet  a  bag  of  small  pebbles, 
from  which  ever  and  anon  he  calmly  abstracts  one  and,  with 
out  removing  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  shies  it  at  the  head  of 
one  of  his  leading-horses.  If  he  wants  to  turn  to  the  right, 
he  hits  the  left  horse  on  the  left  ear ;  if  to  the  left,  the  right 
horse  on  the  right  ear.  The  nervous  Easterner,  who  thinks  that 
a  mishit  might  cause  a  horse  to  start  the  wrong  way  and  dash 


166  THE    TJBAMP    AT   HOME. 

the  stage  down  some  dizzy  height,  holds  his  breath  at  the  ap 
parently  careless  way  in  which  the  driver  throws  stones  at  his 
horses'  heads.  I  never  but  once  saw  one  of  these  Jehus  startled 
from  his  stolid  composure.  He  was  sitting,  as  usual,  in  sol 
emn  silence  on  his  box.  The  passengers  were  dozing,  when, 
suddenly,  all  were  aroused  by  an  exclamation  from  a  cockney 
tourist  who  was  "  doing"  the  West,  and  evidently^expected  to 
find  wonders  every  minute. 

"  Look,  Jack !"  cried  the  Englishman  to  his  companion. 
"  Look  at  that  enormous  bird  !" 

Every  head  was  thrust  out,  every  eye,  even  the  driver's, 
scanned  the  scene  to  get  a  sight  of  the  "  enormous  bird." 

The  "bird"  proved  to  be  the  head  of  a  poor  old  horse 
poked  up  above  the  grass  some  yards  distant.  A  few  miles 
farther  on  a  large  jack-rabbit  jumped  across  the  road.  Again 
the  Englishman  came  to  the  fore. 

"  See,  Jack,  that  hopping  bird  }  Curious  birds  in  this  coun 
try,  aren't  they  ?'r 

The  driver  maintained  his  solemn  silence,  but  I  saw  a  shadow 
on  his  broad  face.  Even  when  the  short-sighted  cockney  mis 
took  a  squirrel  for  a  parrot,  he  did  not  relax  his  dignity ;  but 
when  the  sight-seeing  Englishman  saw  a  skunk  with  a  bushy 
tail  ambling  along  the  road  just  ahead  of  us,  and  nudged  his 
friend  excitedly,  and  cried, 

"  Look,  Jack  !  Look  at  that  lame  magpie  on  the  road  !"  the 
driver,  turning  his  eyes  solemnly  on  the  Englishman,  said, 

"  It  takes  a  tarnation  fool  to  git  bird  on  the  brain,  an'  you've 
got  it !" 

Our  innocent  cockney  subsided  for  a  minute  or  two.  How 
ever,  about  dusk,  when  we  overtook  a  gang  of  Chinamen,  he 
called  Jack's  attention  to  that  "  band  of  Indians !" 


CALIFORNIA.  167 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CALIFORNIA. 

THE  "LABOR  QUESTION"  ON  THE  PACIFIC  COAST.  —  UNSETTLED 
CONDITIONS.  —  MILLIONAIRES,  PAUPERS,  AND  DISCONTENT.  — 
GREEK  SCHOLARS  AT  WORK  SIDE  BY  SIDE  WITH  CHINAMEN. — 
A  WAITER  WHO  DOES  NOT  PEEL  POTATOES.  —  CHINESE  LABOR 
UNIONS.  —  THEIR  STRIKES  AND  BOYCOTTS.  —  PHOTOGRAPHING  UN 
DERGROUND  DENS  BY  AID  OF  ELECTRIC  LIGHTS.  —  FRIGHTENED 
MONGOLIANS. — AT  A  CHINESE  FUNERAL.  — BAKED  PIG  AND  BIRDS' 
NESTS.— MUST  THE  CHINESE  GO? 

EVERY  one  knows  that  the  conditions  of  labor  are  alike  in 
no  two  European  States.  German  wages  and  German  life  dif 
fer  from  Italian  wages  and  Italian  life ;  the  Italian  differs  from 
the  French,  and  so  on.  The  difference  in  the  wages  and  man 
ner  of  living  between  the  Eastern  and  the  Western  States  of 
the  American  Union  is  as  strongly  marked  as  the  difference 
found  in  European  kingdoms. 

I  have  spoken  of  sales-women  in  Eastern  cities  seeking  in 
vain  work  at  $3.50  a  week  of  seventy -two  hours.  In  San 
Francisco  a  sales-girl  will  turn  up  her  nose  at  the  proposition 
to  work  seventy -two  hours  for  $3.50.  Seven  or  eight  dollars  a 
week,  with  plenty  of  time  for  dinner,  will  come  nearer  to  her 
demands.  The  house-servant  who  in  New  York  earns  $16  a 
month  earns  $20  or  $25  in  San  Francisco.  Young  women  in 
San  Francisco  upholstery  establishments  are  paid  $2  a  day. 
When  they  work  overtime,  from  8  to  10  P.M.,  they  receive  $1 
extra.  Many  in  busy  seasons  earn  $18  a  week  at  work  that  is 
neat  and  not  laborious.  In  woollen-mills,  shoe  factories,  and 
other  places  where  women  are  employed,  as  high  or  higher 
wages  are  paid  than  are  paid  in  large  Eastern  cities. 

Of  half  a  thousand  working-girls  taken  at  random  from  vari 
ous  establishments  in  San  Francisco,  nearly  eighty  per  cent,  said 


168 


THE   TEAMP    AT    HOME. 


CALIFORNIA    GIRLS    PEELING   TEACHES. 


that  they  did  not  have  to  work ;  that  they  worked  merely  for 
pin-money,  or  to  wear  finer  clothes.  A  compositor  on  whom  I 
called  in  San  Jose  lived  in  a  handsome  cottage,  surrounded  by 
a  lawn  and  a  fruit  orchard.  The  parlor  was  prettily  furnished ; 
a  piano  was  in  one  corner;  on  the  walls  were  mirrors  and 
paintings.  The  father  of  the  young  lady  is  a  well-to-do 


CALIFORNIA.  169 

physician,  able  to  support  his  daughter.  She,  however,  chooses 
to  work  and  be  independent.  Every  morning,  she  goes  down 
to  a  newspaper  office,  sets  type  all  day,  then  in  the  evening 
receives  callers,  or  goes  to  the  theatre  along  with  the  rest  of 
the  society  belles  of  the  town.  This,  which  is  not  an  isolated 
case  on  the  Pacific  coast,  can  scarcely  be  paralleled  in  any  East 
ern  city.  I  do  not  think  women  compositors  can  be  found  in 
any  Eastern  town  of  thirty  thousand  inhabitants  who  live  in 
the  style  and  mingle  in  the  so-called  fashionable  society  that 
this  girl  type-setter  in  San  Jose  docs. 

In  the  fruit  canneries,  which  give  employment  to  thousands 
of  women  and  girls  in  California,  I  have  frequently  come  across 
young  women  of  family  and  education  who  were  working 
temporarily  in  the  canneries  to  make  enough  money  to  finish 
their  education  and  fit  themselves  for  school-teaching.  Others 
were  already  school-teachers  who  were  working  during  the 
vacation  to  make  a  little  pin-money. 

The  cost  of  living  in  San  Francisco  is  quite  as  cheap,  if  not 
cheaper,  than  in  New  York.  Clothing  is  almost  the  only  item 
that  is  more  expensive,  and  that  is  becoming  less  so  every  day. 
A  San  Francisco  working-man's  cottage  of  four  rooms,  each 
ten  by  fourteen  feet,  may  be  had  for  $12  a  month,  water- 
rent  free.  In  a  restaurant  he  can  get  a  passably  good  din 
ner  for  fifteen  cents.  I  recall  from  the  bill  of  fare  of  a  certain 
working-man's  restaurant  the  items  of  two  eggs  five  cents,  a 
mutton  or  lamb  chop  five  cents,  coffee  and  bread  five  cents. 
There  were  no  plate-glass  mirrors,  and  no  waiters  in  swallow- 
tailed  coats ;  but  the  food,  reasonably  well  cooked,  was  such  as 
a  man  of  small  means  could  well  afford  to  live  on.  The  San 
Francisco  working-man  has  also  the  advantage  of  Eastern 
working-men  in  the  matter  of  amusements.  In  the  Tivoli  he 
can  listen,  for  twenty-five  cents,  to  standard  plays  and  operas, 
put  on  in  the  same  style  for  which  in  other  cities  a  dollar  is 
charged.  But  the  great  advantage  of  California  is  its  climate.* 

*  In  one  respect  the  peculiar  climate  of  San  Francisco  is  anything  but 
8 


170  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

San  Francisco  knows  no  extremes  of  either  heat  or  cold.  In 
winter,  when  workmen  in  Eastern  cities  spend  a  large  part  of 
their  earnings  for  fuel,  and  yet  are  half  frozen,  workmen  in  San 
Francisco  are  enjoying  a  temperature  just  cold  enough  to  brace 
up  the  system.  In  summer  the  New  York  workman  wilts  from 
heat,  succumbs  to  sunstrokes,  while  the  San  Francisco  work- 

an  advantage  to  working-men  or  to  any  other  class  of  citizens ;  for  the 
climate  undoubtedly  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  extraordinary  num 
ber  of  divorces  granted  in  the  San  Francisco  courts.  Coal  costs  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  dollars  a  ton.  As  it  is  not  very  cold,  economical  house 
keepers  seldom  deem  it  worth  while  to  keep  fires  in  their  sitting-rooms. 
The  mistress  of  the  house,  having  household  duties  to  perform,  is  stirring 
about,  consequently  can  bear  the  cold  of  the  room.  The  husband,  just  in 
from  his  day's  work,  wants  to  sit  down  and  rest ;  but  he  feels  chilly,  and 
after  supper  takes  a  walk  to  get  warm.  In  Eastern  cities  men  sit  on  their 
front  steps  of  summer  evenings  and  chat  with  their  families.  It  is  too 
hot  to  go  about.  In  winter  it  is  too  cold,  and  they  are  glad  to  get  home 
and  sit  with  the  family  around  a  bright  fire.  There  is  nothing  of  this  in 
San  Francisco.  The  husband,  as  soon  as  dinner  is  over,  puts  on  his  hat 
and  takes  a  walk.  His  wife,  when  the  house  is  put  to  rights,  also  goes 
somewhere  to  keep  from  becoming  numb  from  cold.  From  7  to  10  p.  M. 
on  almost  every  night  in  the  year,  Market  and  Kearney  streets  are  so  dense 
ly  thronged  that  pedestrians  are  frequently  compelled  to  walk  in  the  streets 
and  gutters.  It  is  like  Broadway  at  mid-day.  A  stranger  seeing  these 
crowds  for  the  first  time  thinks  that  some  unusual  celebration  is  on  hand. 
This  constant,  and  in  a  manner  necessary,  gadding  about  is  a  serious  blow 
to  home  life  and  happiness,  and  helps  greatly  to  keep  the  divorce  "mill" 
going.  4920  divorces  have  been  granted  in  San  Francisco  in  the  twenty- 
one  years  ending  with  1887 — an  average  of  234  and  a  fraction  per  year. 
In  the  same  period  there  were  49,277  marriages  ;  thus  one  out  of  every  ten 
marriages  in  San  Francisco  is  dissolved  by  divorce.  If  the  estimate  be 
made  for  the  last  eight  years  only,  it  will  be  found  that  the  number  of 
marriages  dissolved  by  divorce  is  nearly  one  in  six.  Who  can  say  that 
the  effect  of  the  climate,  as  noted  above,  is  not  in  part  responsible  for  this 
abnormally  large  proportion?  In  Ohio  there  is  but  one  divorce  to  twenty- 
six  marriages,  in  Massachusetts  one  to  twenty-one,  in  Rhode" Island  one 
to  twelve.  In  France  a  Paris  paper  is  alarmed  because  one  out  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  French  marriages  is  dissolved  by  divorce.  What  would 
the  French  editor  say  to  one  divorce  to  every  six  marriages,  as  in  San 
Francisco  ? 


CALIFORNIA.  171 

man  lias  to  continue  in  motion  to  keep  warm  even  in  July 
and  August.  Why,  then,  is  not  San  Francisco  the  paradise  of 
working-men  ?  Why  is  there  full  as  much  discontent  on  the 
Pacific  as  on  the  Atlantic  coast  ? 

It  is  the  unsettled  condition  of  affairs.  In  the  East,  every 
boy  is  told  that  he  may  become  President,  and  live  in  the 
White  House  at  a  salary  of  $50,000  a  year  and  perquisites. 
lie  is  told  how  Jay  Gould  went  to  New  York  to  peddle  mouse 
traps,  and  from  mouse-traps  went  for  larger  game  and  became 
a  millionaire.  The  Eastern  boy  hears  of  these  things  as  he 
hears  of  Aladdin  and  his  lamp ;  but  when  he  quits  school  he 
settles  down  to  his  trade  or  profession,  and,  generally  speaking 
follows  that  trade  or  profession  for  the  remainder  of  his  life, 
satisfied  if  he  makes  a  decent  support  for  himself  and  family. 
On  the  Pacific  coast  it  is  different.  It  is  not  school-boys 
only  who  dream  of  becoming  presidents  and  millionaires,  it  is 
men.  This  dream  becomes  an  agitating  force  which  drives 
men  on  by  day  and  night.  Sudden  fortunes  are  made  and 
lost.  Men  do  not  aim  at  competence,  but  at  wealth.  In  the 
Eastern  States,  if  a  man  becomes  a  street-car  driver  he  expects 
to  remain  in  the  business.  In  San  Francisco  the  street-car 
driver  of  to-day  may  to-morrow  loom  out  as  a  lawyer;  the  day 
after,  a  real-estate  speculator  or  a  doctor.  It  not  infrequently 
happens  that  men  educated  in  the  East  for  the  learned  profes 
sions,  on  coming  to  San  Francisco  are  forced  to  daily  labor  for 
a  support.  A  few  years  ago,  at  a  fashionable  ball,  one  of  the 
guests  was  obliged  to  leave  before  the  dancing  ceased.  He  was 
required  to  be  on  the  street-car  which  he  drove  at  five  o'clock 
every  morning.  In  the  East  this  street-car  driver  had  been  a 
lawyer  of  promising  ability.  I  do  not  know  his  subsequent  his 
tory  ;  but  it  would  not  be  rash  to  surmise  that  he  made  a 
fortune  in  mines  or  stocks,  or  that  he  died  a  pauper,  perhaps  a 
suicide,  such  are  the  extremes  of  life  on  the  Pacific  coast.  In 
a  public  gathering  in  San  Francisco  you  may  sit  between 
two  men,  one  of  whom  may  have  been  a  restaurant  waiter,  but 
has  now  an  income  of  a  million  a  year;  the  other  may  have 


172  THE  TRAMP  AT  HOME. 

been  wealthy,  but  now  lays  bricks  for  a  living.  Another  ten 
years  may  see  their  positions  again  reversed.  The  present 
bricklayer  may  be  the  rich  man,  the  millionaire  may  resume 
his  apron  and  wait  on  customers  in  a  restaurant. 

A  seventeen-year  resident  of  San  Francisco,  who  has  made 
and  lost  several  fortunes,  said  he  could  count  on  the  fingers  of 
one  hand  the  men  who  are  rich  now  who  were  also  rich  when 
he  came  to  California  in  1867.  The  master -carpenter  who 
superintended  the  construction  of  his  house  turned  up  six 
months  later  as  a  book-agent,  and  offered  to  sell  "  *  A  Complete 
History  of  the  World '  for  the  small  sum  of  two  dollars."  A  few 
months  later  the  ex-carpenter  and  ex-book  agent  turned  up  as 
a  fruit-tree  nurseryman.  In  that  capacity  he  chanced  to  make 
a  hit ;  and  having  married  the  cook  of  the  rich  man  for  whom 
he  built  the  dwelling,  he  and  his  wife  now  drive  in  their  own 
carriage,  and  give  entertainments  that  are  attended  by  the  elite 
of  society. 

On  trips  in  the  interior  of  California  I  have  come  across  men 
who  could  read  Virgil  and  Homer  in  the  original,  and  solve 
problems  in  conic  sections,  working  as  farm-hands  for  $1.50  a 
day.  One  man,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College,  and  once  a  well- 
to-do  lawyer,  was  ploughing  in  the  same  field  with  Chinamen. 

The  remarks  concerning  the  unsettled  condition  of  labor 
apply  even  more  closely  to  working-women  than  to  working- 
men.  The  latter  are  beginning  to  realize  that  all  cannot  be 
come  presidents  and  millionaires,  and  are  therefore  beginning 
to  learn  trades  with  some  view  to  permanency.  As  long  as 
a  woman  is  young,  she  hopes  to  marry  well.  Of  several  hun 
dred  working-women  personally  interviewed,  few  said  they 
were  working  from  necessity,  and  still  fewer  seemed  to  have 
any  intention  of  making  a  life  business  of  their  trade.  Many 
of  these  young  women  live  in  their  parents'  houses,  and  work 
to  get  spending-money,  looking  forward  to  marriage  as  their 
ultimate  fate,  and  expecting  their  husbands  to  do  the  wage-earn 
ing.  The  average  time  which  a  girl  in  San  Francisco  works  as  a 
shoe-fitter  is  only  three  years,  then  she  either  marries  and  gives 


CALIFORNIA.  173 

up  work,  or  changes  from  the  shoe  to  some  other  business, 
going  probably  to  a  woollen-mill  or  a  canning-factory,  or  any 
place,  so  that  it  is  a  change.  These  remarks  must  be  understood 
to  refer  to  American  girls.  The  Italian  and  other  foreign  work 
ing-people  who  have  only  recently  come  to  the  Pacific  coast 
work  as  steadily  as  they  did  in  their  European  homes.  Their 
necessities  force  them  to  work ;  but  their  children  slack  off, 
and  soon  catch  California  ways  and  California  independence. 

Many  labor  leaders  seem  to  believe  that  there  is  usually  a 
glut  in  the  labor  market.  Such  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  the 
case  in  California.  When  I  arrived  in  the  Santa  Clara  valley 
I  found  that  the  public  schools  were  closed  to  let  the  children 
help  pick  and  preserve  the  fruit,  which  otherwise  would  have 
rotted  on  the  ground  for  lack  of  labor  to  gather  it.  Chinese 
hands  in  fruit  canneries  earn  $1  a  day;  white  labor,  being  pre 
ferred,  can  earn  $1  50.  From  close  observation,  it  appears  to 
me  that  much  of  the  discontent  of  California  laborers  results 
from  the  fact  that  in  "pioneer"  times  wages  were  very  high — 
from  $10  to  $12  a  day.  Of  course  this  could  not  last.  Chi 
nese  being  the  first  to  pour  in  and  reduce  labor  to  something 
like  its  natural  level,  white  men  raised  the  cry  of  "  Chinese 
cheap  labor."  Had  Irish,  German,  Italian,  or  negro  laborers 
come  instead  of  the  Chinese,  the  effect  would  have  been  the 
same ;  that  is,  wages  would  have  fallen.  But,  instead  of  the 
intense  animosity  felt  against  the  Chinaman  for  bringing  about 
the  reduction,  the  change  would  have  been  received  as  natural. 
The  independence  of  labor  in  California  is  illustrated  by  an  in 
cident  which  I  observed  at  the  table  of  a  first-class  hotel. 

Guest  to  Waiter.  "  Peel  these  potatoes  for  me,  waiter.'' 

Waiter.  "  I  don't  peel  potatoes." 

Guest  (looking  up  surprised).  "Take  them  to  the  cook,  then." 

Waiter.   "The  cook  don't  peel  potatoes  either." 

Guest  (angrily).   "  Well,  take  them  away." 

Waiter  (urbanely).  "  All  right,  sir ;  we  take  potatoes  away." 

On  another  occasion  I  heard  a  guest  at  the  hotel  ask  the 
waiter  to  open  his  eggs. 


174  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"That's  something  I'll  do  for  no  man,"  replied  the  knight  of 
the  napkin,  and  the  guest  had  to  open  his  own  eggs. 

Any  description  of  the  Pacific  coast  industrial  situation  with 
out  calling  attention  to  the  Chinese  question  would  be  incom 
plete.  The  main  outcry  against  the  Chinaman  is  that  he  works 
too  cheaply.  If  that  were  a  fact,  it  would  be  ground  for  com 
plaint  from  the  Chinaman's  stand-point ;  but  it  is  hard  to  see 
how  it  can  be  from  the  white  man's  point  of  view.  Were  it 
conceivable,  through  some  extraordinary  change  in  nature,  that 
shoes,  for  instance,  should  grow  on  bushes,  and  be  as  plentiful 
and  cheap  as  peanuts,  does  any  one  think  that  mankind  would 
be  injured  thereby  ?  There  would  be  a  displacement  of  labor ; 
shoemakers  would  be  compelled  to  do  something  else ;  but  the 
energy  now  spent  in  shoeing  the  world  would  be  released,  and 
made  free  to  be  directed  into  productive  paths.  Mankind  would 
have  the  shoes  from  the  bushes  and  the  product  of  the  new  la 
bor  besides.  The  net  gain  to  the  world  would  be  enormous. 
In  the  same  way,  if  shoes  do  not  grow  on  bushes  for  nothing, 
but  do  grow  out  of  the  hands  of  Chinamen  at  a  cost  of  next  to 
nothing,  the  benefit  to  society  at  large  would  be  proportion 
ately  great. 

However  logical  this  reasoning  is,  it  does  not  apply  to  Chi 
nese  labor ;  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Chinese  labor  is  not  cheap, 
and  never  has  been,  in  California,  whatever  it  might  become 
should  the  State  be  flooded  with  Mongolians.  Chinese  day 
laborers  on  farms  earn  $1.50  a  day.  In  the  Eastern  States  the 
farm  laborer  makes  only  sixty-six  cents.  A  New  York  house 
keeper  pays  $16  a  month  for  a  German  girl  who  can  cook  and 
do  the  washing  besides.  In  San  Francisco,  a  Chinese  cook  for 
a  small  family  is  paid  as  high  as  $35  a  month.  A  seventeen- 
year-old  boy  of  moderate  capacity  earns  as  house-servant  $5  a 
week,  and  does  no  washing  or  house-work,  only  the  cooking. 
In  the  house  of  an  acquaintance,  a  well-known  San  Francisco 
physician,  I  saw  a  Japanese  servant  who,  when  not  cooking 
the  family's  meals,  reads  metaphysical  works  or  English  history. 
This  Jap  told  me  that  in  Japan  his  father  was  a  well-to-do  man- 


CALIFORNIA. 


175 


ufacturer  of  table  sauces.  He  had  educated  his  sons  in  the  best 
Japanese  universities,  and  now  they  were  taking  a  practical 
and  economical  way  of  seeing  the  world  and  learning  foreign 
languages.  Mewah  stipulated  precisely  what  his  duties  were 
to  be,  and  beyond  the  stipulation  he  does  not  go  an  inch.  It 


LOTTERY   SHOP. 


is  not  in  the  contract  for  him  to  answer  the  door-bell ;  accord 
ingly,  when  callers  come  Mewah  calmly  continues  his  study 
of  metaphysics,  and  lets  his  mistress  or  the  maid  go  to  the 
door. 

The  Chinese  have  their  unions,  their  strikes,  their  boycotts, 
just  as  white  men  have.  The  rules  which  govern  them  are  more 
strict.  It  is  said  that  a  Chinaman  who  disregards  an  order  of 
his  union  is  very  severely  punished.  This  keeps  other  mem 
bers  in  good  subjection  and  true  to  their  unions.  A  cigar  man 
ufacturer  who  gave  an  order  forbidding  his  employes  from 
taking  for  their  own  use  the  finest  cigars,  found  himself  next 
morning  without  a  single  Chinese  employe.  The  white  em 
ployes  were  at  work  as  usual.  The  Chinese  would  not  return 
until  a  promise  to  exempt  them  from  the  rule  was  made.  The 


176  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

anomaly  was  thus  presented  of  a  white  employer  giving  his 
Chinese  operatives  privileges  not  enjoyed  by  the  whites.  In 
the  same  way,  in  a  certain  fruit  cannery,  where  an  order  was 
given  requiring  the  employes  to  stand  while  at  work,  there  was 
a  strike  for  stools.  The  white  women  failed  ;  not  so  with  the 
Chinese.  They  gained  their  point,  and  were  allowed  to  sit 
while  the  rest  stood  up.  The  Chinese  can  do  this  because  their 
organization  is  so  perfect,  and  because  of  the  "  highbinders," 
who  hold  every  member  to  rigid  obedience  to  orders. 

The  "Hong  Tuck  Tong"  (Cigar-makers'  Union),  of  which 
the  Honorable  Mak  Yau  Lang  is  the  leading  spirit  and  di 
rector,  numbers  two  thousand  members.  Each  member  pays 
an  initiation  fee  of  $1.50.  The  Tong  does  not  attempt  to  reg 
ulate  the  hours  of  labor,  but  no  member  is  permitted  to  work 
for  less  than  the  union  rate,  nor  to  work  with  any  one  who 
works  for  less.  In  a  recent  case  forty  Chinese  struck  because 
ten  new  hands  offered  to  work  below  the  union  rate.  The 
strike  lasted  four  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the  employer 
gave  in.  The  ten  men  were  forced  to  join  the  union,  and  to 
pay  a  fine  of  $5  each.  The  hall  of  the  "  Hong  Tuck  Tong," 
where  meetings  are  held  to  fix  the  wages  for  which  members 
may  work,  is  handsomely  furnished.  The  walls  are  hung  with 
labor  mottoes  in  the  Chinese  language.  The  seats,  unlike  the 
rough  benches  one  would  find  in  a  "white"  hall,  are  of  pol 
ished  ebony-wood,  ornamented  with  carving.  At  the  end  of 
the  hall  is  a  raised  platform,  covered  with  straw  matting  and 
provided  with  a  complete  opium  outfit.  Reclining  here,  with 
pipe  in  hand,  the  dignified  Mak  Yau  Lang  presides  over  the 
meeting  and  shapes  the  policy  of  his  Tong  (union).  Yau  Lang 
spoke  freely  of  the  union,  and  gave  me  permission  to  make  a 
sketch  of  the  club-room,  but  politely  declined  to  sit  for  his  own 
picture.  He  also  objected  to  the  artist's  sketching  the  club's 
Joss,  which  was  in  a  separate  room  adjoining  the  hall.  In  re 
ply  to  my  remark  that  the  big  Joss,  the  public  Joss,  had  fre 
quently  been  photographed,  Yau  Lang  smiled  serenely  and 
shook  his  head. 


CALIFORNIA.  177 

"Joss  no  likee.  Big  Joss  take  care  himself.  Little  Joss 
no  likee." 

There  arc  few  Chinese  who  do  "  likee."  Bribes,  entreaties, 
strategies,  are  alike  vain.  "  Chinaman  no  likee  picture,"  that 
is  all  that  is  to  be  got  from  them.  "When  the  photographer 
sets  up  his  camera,  or  the  avtist  pulls  out  his  note-book  and  pen 
cil,  the  Chinese  vanish.  In  a  Chinese  overalls  factory  my  pho 
tographer  held  sole  possession  for  two  hours,  while  the  hun 
dred  operators  skulked  around  the  alleys  and  streets  at  a  loss 
of  $25  or  $30,  rather  than  have  their  photographs  taken.  Per 
haps  they  fear  that  if  the  police  authorities  have  their  portraits 
they  will  not  so  readily  escape  identification  in  times  of  trouble 
as  they  now  do. 

The  Kam  Yee  Tong  (Clothing-makers'  Union)  numbers  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  members.  A  white  manufacturer  of  overalls 
who  employs  members  of  the  Kam  Yee  once  succeeded  in  get 
ting  his  men  to  work  for  ten  cents  a  dozen  less  than  the  Tong 
allowed.  He  kept  a  false  set  of  books,  showing  an  ostensible 
payment  of  regular  rates.  The  scheme  prospered  for  a  while, 
then  it  was  discovered  ;  the  renegade  members  of  the  Kam  Yee 
were  fined  and  expelled,  and  the  manufacturer  was  black-listed  ; 
that  is,  he  was  not  furnished  with  more  men  by  the  union,  but 
was  left  to  the  uncertain  resource  of  "  scab  "  Chinamen  and 
white  labor.  Said  this  manufacturer  to  me, 

"  It  has  been  a  great  blow  to  our  company.  We  cannot  get 
along  without  Chinamen.  Since  our  fuss  with  the  Kam  Yee 
we  have  had  to  rely  entirely  on  white  labor,  which  often  fails 
us.  When  a  Chinese  boss  says  that  he  will  have  fifty  dozen 
coats  by  a  certain  time,  we  can  rely  on  getting  them  at  the  speci 
fied  time.  White  labor  is  not  so  reliable.  If  there  is  no  strike, 
we  may  get  the  coats  a  week  after  they  are  promised ;  if  there 
is  a  strike,  we  don't  get  them  at  all.  The  Chinese  strike  if  the 
strict  letter  of  the  contract  is  not  carried  out ;  our  white  em 
ployes  sometimes  strike  even  though  the  very  letter  of  the 
contract  be  complied  with.  Our  white  employes  may  be  or 
dered  to  strike  by  other  employes  who  have  some  real  or  fan- 
8* 


178  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

cied  grievance  to  remedy.  This  is  the  reason  we  prefer  Chi 
nese.  A  manufacturer  who  wants  coats  made,  or  a  farmer  who 
wants  a  field  ploughed,  prefers  laborers  who  are  not  under  the 
government  of  other  laborers,  other  unions  whose  orders,  with 
out  a  minute's  notice,  may  annul  our  contracts  and  stop  all 
work." 

I  do  not  believe  that  this  employer  really  believed  Chinese 
operatives  superior  to  Americans.  Strikes  interfering  with  his 
white  hands  had  irritated  him. 

The  Chinese  gold  and  silver  workers  have  a  union  called  the 
Hang  Wo  Tong,  which  is  more  exclusive  than  the  other  Tongs. 
To  belong  to  this  Tong  an  initiation  fee  of  $10  must  be  paid, 
and  the  applicant  must  have  served  an  apprenticeship  of  six 
years.  AYhen  he  has  done  this,  he  hires  himself  out  by  the 
year  at  the  rate  of  $1.50  for  each  working-day.  There  are 
only  fifteen  Chinese  holidays  in  the  Chinese  year,  so  that,  un 
less  sick  or  voluntarily  idle,  the  Chinese  gold  and  silver  workers 
make  $525  a  year.  The  hours  of  labor  are  from  10  A.M.  to 
12  M.  (half  an  hour  for  eating),  from  12.30  P.M.  to  4.30  P.M. 
(half  an  hour  for  dinner),  from  5  P.M.  to  6  P.M.,  and  again  from 
8  P.M.  until  11  P.M. — ten  hours'  actual  work  per  day. 

A  Tong  of  more  importance  than  any  yet  mentioned  is  the 
Chi  Kung,  of  which  Ah  Fook  is  general  manager.  Members 
of  the  Chi  Kung  claim  that  their  society  corresponds  to  the 
white  society  of  Masons ;  but  those  familiar  with  its  secret 
workings  say  that  the  Chi  Kungs,  or  "  highbinders,"  as  they 
are  commonly  called,  are  a  set  of  thugs  and  black-mailers.  Ah 
Fook  levies  a  tribute  of  $5  a  week  on  each  gambling  establish 
ment  in  Chinatown.  If  a  Chinaman  is  to  be  got  rid  of,  the 
highbinders,  for  a  consideration,  will  undertake  the  task  of  "re 
moving"  him.  An  officer  of  the  secret  police,  from  whom  I 
obtained  much  information  concerning  the  Chi  Kungs,  was  him 
self  black-listed,  and  a  reward  of  $800  set  upon  his  head.  Being 
a  cool  man,  a  good  shot,  and  always  well  armed,  he  has  thus  far 
escaped,  although  two  or  three  night  attacks  and  broken  bones 
have  resulted  in  the  attempt  of  the  highbinders  to  remove  their 


CALIFORNIA.  179 

enemy.  A  member  of  a  Chinese  union  who  disobeys  orders  is 
black-listed.  If  he  makes  himself  specially  obnoxious,  his  name 
is  handed  to  the  Chi  Kungs  ;  then  that  Chinaman  disappears. 
Nobody  knows  what  has  become  of  him.  Perhaps  he  has  re 
turned  to  China  or  gone  to  the  Eastern  States,  or  perhaps  he 
is  dead.  People  do  not  Jknow  and  do  not  care ;  thus  it  is 
that  the  Chinese  unions  are  enabled  to  enforce  implicit  obe 
dience  to  their  every  mandate.  White  unions  attempt  some 
thing  of  the  kind  ;  the  only  difference  is  that  they  do  not  carry 
it  to  such  an  extent.  The  white  scab  is  not  blotted  off  the 
face  of  the  earth,  as  is  the  Chinese  scab,  but  he  is  "  shanghaied," 
boycotted,  and  perhaps  beaten  and  badly  bruised,  until  he  comes 
to  his  senses  and  joins  the  union. 

A  careful  study  of  the  situation  in  California  will  not  induce 
a  logical  mind  to  object  to  the  Chinese  on  economic  grounds. 
No  reasoning  person  can  refuse  to  use  shoes  or  blankets  be 
cause  they  cost  little  or  nothing,  because  they  are  made  by 
cheap  labor  or  improved  machinery,  or  by  any  methods  which 
would  give  them  to  the  people  for  small  sums  of  money ;  but 
there  are  other  and  deeper  objections  which  underlie  Cauca 
sian  antagonism  to  the  Chinese — objections  which  every  white 
man  can  appreciate  and  sympathize  with.  The  Chinese  Em 
pire  has  four  hundred  millions  of  people.  Suppose  that  ten, 
twenty,  thirty,  forty,  or  fifty  millions  pour  into  our  country 
and  virtually  bring  China  over  to  America,  what  would  be  the 
result  ?  These  people  are,  and  always  will  be,  foreigners — they 
have  no  assimilative  power.  Chinatown,  in  San  Francisco, 
is  felt  to  be  a  thorn  sticking  in  the  side  of  the  body  politic, 
keeping  up  a  chronic  irritation,  creating,  as  it  were,  an  incura 
ble  ulcer  which  every  individual  of  the  Caucasian  race  cordially 
condemns  and  despises.  The  race  prejudice  felt  towards  the 
Chinese  in  San  Francisco  is  something  which  persons  from  the 
East  wonder  at.  It  is  even  more  bitter,  more  intolerant  than 
the  race  prejudice  of  the  Southern  whites  against  the  negro. 

Why  is  this?  To  an  impartial  observer  the  pure-blooded 
African,  with  woolly  hair,  ebony  skin,  thick  lips,  flat  nose,  and 


180  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

ill-shaped  feet  would  seem  more  repulsive  than  the  straight- 
haired,  yellow-skinned  Mongolian,  who  has  small  hands  and 
feet,  and  usually  an  appearance  of  neatness.  The  Mongolian, 
also,  has  the  advantage  of  having  a  civilized  ancestry  and  a 
great  government  to  back  him ;  the  negro  has  only  savage  an 
cestry  and  savage  tribes  at  his  back.  The  Chinaman  comes  of 
a  people  who  have  a  literature  of  their  own,  also  arts  and  sci 
ences  ;  the  negro  comes  of  a  people  who  have  not  yet  invented 
letters,  who  have  no  written  laws  or  language,  of  a  people  ut 
terly  ignorant  of  the  arts  and  sciences.  Yet  the  Californian 
feels  kindly  towards  the  negro,  while  seeming  hardly  to  look 
upon  the  Chinaman  as  human,  with  an  immortal  soul.  I  heard 
a  man  from  Connecticut  who  had  lived  fifteen  years  in  San 
Francisco,  who  ardently  sympathized  with  the  abolitionists,  who 
believed  in  giving  the  negro  freedom  and  the  ballot — I  heard 
this  man  declare  that  every  Chinaman  in  California  ought  to 
be  sold  into  slavery,  that  each  should  have  a  master,  and  be 
made  to  work  under  a  master's  lash.  An  ex-Indiana  man  said 
that  any  American  who  employed  a  Chinaman  should  be  burned 
at  a  stake.  Is  this  bitterness  because  the  Chinaman  has  a  for 
eign  religion,  and  no  powers  of  adaptation — no  inclination  to 
imitate  his  Caucasian  superiors  ? 

The  gambling  dens,  the  opium  dens,  the  dens  of  prostitution, 
the  slavery  of  women — all  these  seem  independent  of  the  law 
and  of  the  State.  These  conditions  seem  to  stir  and  keep  alive 
the  animosity  of  the  white  against  the  yellow  race.  In  a  lodg 
ing-room*  sixteen  by  ten  by  seven  feet,  reached  by  an  un 
derground  passage-way  fifty  feet  long,  I  found  two  rows  of 
bunks,  one  above  the  other,  on  each  side  of  the  room,  separated 
by  a  narrow  aisle.  The  first  tier  of  bunks  was  one  foot  from 
the  floor,  the  second  two  feet  above  the  first,  the  smoke-be 
grimed  ceiling  three  feet  above  the  second.  Here  in  this  black 
hole  in  the  ground  were  twenty-four  human  beings  stretched 
on  the  bunks,  either  smoking  opium  or  stupidly  asleep  from 

*  See  Frontispiece. 


CALIFORNIA.  181 

the  poisonous  smoke.  The  den  rents  for  $6  a  month,  making 
the  price  for  lodging  for  each  person  the  small  sum  of  five- 
sixths  of  a  cent  a  night.  For  the  hovels  in  Naples  Italian 
•working-men  pay  only  $1,  or,  at  most,  $1.50  a  month.  But 
with  all  their  crowding  and  packed  way  of  living,  the  Italians 
cannot  compete  with  tire  Chinese  in  the  matter  of  cheap, 
crowded,  and  foul  lodgings.  There  was  not  even  a  hole  in  this 
den  to  let  in  the  pure  air  from  without,  or  to  let  out  the  foul 
air  from  within.  There  was  one  grated  window,  which  looked 
into  the  dark,  dirty  underground  passage-way  ;  and  this  was  all 
there  was  to  supply  air  to  the  twenty -four  living  men.  I 
was  told  that  many  Chinese  die  of  consumption.  No  wonder. 
Consumption  is  essentially  a  disease  caused  by  foul  air.  When 
an  Italian- family  crowd  into  one  room,  it  is  because  absolute 
poverty  forces  them.  Not  so  with  the  Chinese.  Many  who 
lodge  in  low,  dirty  dens  underground  are  cooks  and  servants  in 
families,  earning  $20  or  $30  a  month.  Rather  than  sleep  in  a 
neat  room  in  his  employer's  house,  the  Chinaman  will  take  lodg 
ings  in  an  ill-ventilated  subterranean  den  and  sleep  on  a  bunk, 
and  become  steeped  with  the  fumes  of  opium. 

I  had  two  balloons  constructed,  the  one  for  oxygen,  the 
other  for  hydrogen  gas.  A  powerful  lime-light  was  prepared, 
the  gas  being  conducted  through  long  rubber  pipes  to  the  cel 
lars  and  subcellars  in  which  the  Chinese  sleep  and  smoke  and 
cook  their  food.  It  was  the  first  time  that  a  bright  light  had  ever 
been  thrown  on  those  dark  dens,  whose  inhabitants  burn  only 
the  small  lamps  by  which  they  cook  opium  before  smoking  it, 
and  by  which  they  light  their  pipes  after  it  is  cooked.  The 
blinded,  dazzled,  half-stupefied  inmates,  thinking  that  their  dens 
were  to  be  blown  up,  scampered  out  as  fast  as  they  could, 
like  scared  rats.  Officers  were  stationed  at  every  exit  which 
led  to  the  surface  of  the  earth.  The  photographer  turned  his 
camera  upon  the  squalid  scene,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  powerful 
lime-light  took  the  first  views  that  were  ever  taken  of  under 
ground  Chinatown.  When  we  emerged  from  the  den,  a  crowd 
of  several  hundred  infuriated  Chinamen  surged  around  us.  We 


182  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

had  been  an  hour  or  two  below,  and  word  had  been  passed 
among  the  inhabitants  of  Chinatown  that  the  police  were  mak 
ing  a  wholesale  and  extraordinary  raid  with  burning  lights  and 
balloons.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  officers  cleared  the 
way  and  afforded  us  safe  retreat. 

A  Chinese  working-man's  trousers  and  blouse  cost  $1.50; 
his  shoes,  81.40.  The  outlaj^  for  clothing  often  does  not  ex 
ceed  $5  a  year.  Lodging  costs  another  $5.  Here  is  the  table 
of  earnings  and  expenses  of  a  Chinese  broom-maker : 

Condition. — Earns  ninety  cents  a  day,  $315  a  year.  Lives  twenty  feet 
under  level  of  street,  in  a  cellar  room  six  feet  high,  ten  long,  and  seven 
wide.  Six  men  sleep  in  the  room,  the  six  paying  $1  a  month  rent. 

Diet. — Breakfast  at  9  A.M.  :  Kice  and  pork.  Dinner  at  4  P.M.  :  Rice 
and  pork.  The  broom-maker  eats  during  the  day  two  pounds  of  rice,  ten 
cents ;  pork,  five  cents ;  oil,  vinegar,  etc.,  two  cents. 

Cost  of  Living  : 

Lodging,  half  a  cent  a  day,  equals,  per  year 

Clothing 

Food  at  twenty  cents  a  day  equals,  per  year 

Two  queues  at  seventy  cents  each 

Shaving  head  twice  a  mouth,  per  year 

Total  yearly  cost  of  living,  for  necessaries $84  92 

Total  earnings 315  00 

Xet  savings,  per  year $231  08 

But  to  this  actual  cost  of  necessaries  must  be  added  the  out 
lay  for  opium,  a  sum  about  equal  to  that  spent  for  food. 
What  is  then  left  of  his  wages  the  economical  broom-maker 
hoards  until  he  has  some  hundred  dollars,  when  he  returns  to 
China  to  pose  as  a  wealthy  man.  The  place  where  this  broom- 
maker  works  is  called  the  Quong  Sang  Lang  Co-operative 
Broom  Factory.  The  Chinese  idea  of  co-operation,  however, 
does  not,  I  think,  extend  beyond  the  sign  on  the  door.  The 
men  are  hired  and  paid  so  much  a  hundred  brooms,  just  as  in 
any  other  broom  factory. 

No.  8  Bartlett  Alley  is  a  typical  Chinese  tenement  rookery. 
Bartlett  Alley  is  about  the  width  of  a  boulevard  in  Naples; 


ALLEY    IN    CHINATOWN. 


CALIFORNIA.  185 

that  is,  about  fifteen  feet  wide.  No.  8  is  entered  by  a  passage 
way  three  feet  wide.  Seven  feet  up  the  narrow  rickety  steps 
a  sliding  panel  opens  into  the  first  small  room,  fitted  up  with 
bunks,  and  occupied  by  a  family  of  eight  persons.  Continue 
up  the  steps  to  the  top,  and  a  court  is  entered,  nine  by  eigh 
teen  feet.  Eight  rooms,  containing,  on  an  average,  seven  per 
sons,  open  on  this  court.  Ascend  another  narrow  flight  of 
stairs,  and  more  layers  of  cramped,  box-like  rooms  are  found, 
each  crowded  with  yellow-skinned  Mongolians.  A  hole  five 
feet  square,  in  the  centre  of  the  court,  lets  light  down  into  the 
cellar,  thirty  feet  below.  Here,  deep  in  the  earth,  is  a  cellar, 
divided  into  a  number  of  cells  six  feet  high,  seven  feet  wide, 
and  ten  feet  long.  In  each  of  these  cells,  never  reached  by  the 
sun's  rays,  without  ventilation,  sleep  six  human  beings.  Each 
cell  rents  for  a  dollar  a  month,  so  that  lodging  for  one  person 
costs  per  day  five-ninths  of  a  cent. 

In  the  centre  of  the  cellar,  under  the  square  hole,  are  long 
ovens  of  brick,  with  as  many  holes  as  there  are  cells.  The 
tenants  of  each  cell  have  the  exclusive  use  of  one  hole  in  the 
oven.  On  that  hole  they  set  their  kettle,  build  a  fire  under 
neath,  boil  their  rice,  and  fry  or  stew  their  meat.  The  fumes 
from  this  underground  kitchen  have  no  escape;  consequently, 
they  hang  around  and  permeate  every  sleeping -hole  in  the 
building.  Chinese  business  places  are  on  the  same  small  scale. 
A  shoe  store,  half  a  block  from  the  lodging-house  just  de 
scribed,  is  six  feet  deep,  seven  feet  high,  and  two  and  a  half 
feet  wide.  A  ladder  which  is  set  out  on  the  pavement  during 
the  day  enables  the  two  shoe  merchants  at  night  to  climb  up 
to  their  bunk  over  the  shop.  There,  amid  a  pile  of  old  shoes, 
rolls  of  sole-leather,  pots,  and  kettles,  they  sleep  apparently  as 
contentedly  as  if  in  the  Palace  Hotel.  Before  climbing  to  their 
nest  at  night,  pious  Chinamen  light  a  bunch  of  "punk,"  to 
keep  the  devil  away  while  they  are  asleep.  Punk,  which  burns 
very  slowly,  is  an  important  adjunct  to  every  Chinese  work 
man's  bench.  If  he  has  an  imaginative  mind,  and  sees  spooks 
during  the  day,  all  he  has'to  do  is  to  reach  over,  light  his  punk, 


186  THE   TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

and  the  troublesome  spook  at  once  retires.  This  punk,  which 
is  supposed  to  have  so  good  an  effect  in  exorcising  evil  spirits, 
is  made  of  camel's  dung,  and  is  imported  in  great  quantities 
from  China. 

The  bakery  of  Ngiw  Ngwi  Tai  is  in  a  cellar  eight  feet  deep 
by  thirteen  feet  wide.  In  the  farther  end  of  this  dark  cellar  is 
a  brick  oven,  where  the  dough  is  placed,  and  cooked  by  a  char 
coal  fire,  not  under,  but  over,  the  oven,  in  a  swinging  iron  bas 
ket.  The  dough  is  kneaded  with  a  big  bamboo  cane.  When 
Ngwi  Tai  has  finished  his  day's  labor  he  retires  to  a  box  in  his 
bakery ;  his  workmen  sleep  in  adjoining  boxes,  and  often  on 
the  work -benches,  which  are  quite  as  comfortable,  I  should 
think,  as  the  regular  Chinese  bed,  that  consists  only  of  rough 
planks  covered  with  straw  matting,  usually  lumbered  with 
opium  outfits  and  other  household  effects.  Nailed  to  the  top 
of  a  Chinese  bunk  or  bed  is  a  stout  sheet.  In  that  sheet,  three 
feet  above  his  nose,  the  Chinaman  stows  away  his  extra  clothes, 
shoes,  pipes,  and  other  articles.  The  roof  of  a  well-to-do  work 
man's  bunk  is  often  thus  filled  to  a  thickness  of  six  or  eight 
inches. 

On  one  visit  to  Chinatown  I  saw  a  Chinaman  come  out  of 
his  door  and  hobble  after  another  of  his  race.  Just  as  the  first 
came  up,  the  second  turned  around,  and  there  they  stood  facing. 
I  thought  there  was  to  be  a  fight,  but  I  was  mistaken.  The 
first  Chinaman  dropped  on  his  knees  before  the  second  one, 
made  some  curious  motions  with  his  hands,  then  arose  and 
went  off.  I  inquired  of  Ah  Sing,  a  neighboring  merchant  in 
"  rats,  skins,  ants,  and  pomade,"  as  the  sign  on  the  door  read, 
what  the  first  man  meant  by  such  conduct.  Ah  Sing  said  that 
Chinaman  No.  2  was  of  rank  in  the  Joss-house,  and  the  kneel 
ing  of  No.  1  was  a  supplication  for  favor  for  a  deceased  friend. 
I  had  observed  Chinaman  No.  2  give  his  kneeling  countryman 
a  handful  of  narrow  strips  of  paper.  Nothing  was  written  on 
these  strips  of  paper,  but  they  were  punched  with  an  instru 
ment  making  peculiar  little  holes;  these  holes  doubtless  con 
veyed  some  secret  message  to  the  divine  Joss, 


CALIFORNIA, 


is: 


CHINESE   MERCHANTS. 

The  funeral  of  the  dead  Chinaman  took  place  shortly  after, 
and  the  man  who  had  knelt  on  the  street  climbed  up  and  sat 
on  the  hearse  by  the  driver.  As  the  hearse  was.  driven  along 
the  streets,  the  Chinaman  scattered  the  punched  slips  of  paper 
right  and  left  on  each  side  of  the  road.  In  the  hearse  by  the 
coffin  was  a  large  basket  containing  a  roast  pig,  some  vegeta 
bles,  and  a  lot  of  cooked  birds'-nests.  These  edibles  are  laid 


188  THE   TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

on  the  grave  for  the  benefit  of  the  deceased  during  the  time 
the  Joss  is  considering  the  question  of  admitting  him  to  the 
fields  of  the  blessed.  This  is  the  idea  of  the  Chinese  ;  but,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  edibles  are  usually  for  the  benefit  of  San 
Francisco  hoodlums,  who  like  to  hang  around  Celestial  funerals 
and  steal  roast  pigs  from  Celestial  graves. 

The  number  of  Chinese  in  Chinatown  is  said  to  be  not  less 
than  forty  thousand,  and,  despite  the  Restriction  Act,  the  num 
ber  is  increasing.  Chinatown  in  San  Francisco  is  as  much  a 
Chinese  city  as  if  in  China ;  the  merchants,  doctors,  restaurants, 
theatres,  are  all  Chinese.  There  is  not  a  Caucasian  in  the  quar 
ter  excepting  policemen  and  tourists.  There  are  several  the 
atres,  the  Po  Wah  Ying  (the  Grand  Theatre)  being  the  prin 
cipal.  The  stage  has  no  wings  or  curtains;  the  actors,  supes, 
and  orchestra  are  all  on  the  stage  together.  The  property-man 
walks  about  during  the  most  thrilling  parts  of  a  scene,  looking 
at  the  audience,  or  giving  a  finishing  touch  to  the  arrangement 
of  the  furniture.  When  an  actor  is  killed  in  the  play,  he  lies 
on  the  floor  a  moment  to  illustrate  death;  then  gets  up  and, 
in  full  view  of  the  audience,  watches  the  other  actors. 

A  white  man  pays  fifty  cents  to  enter  the  Po  Wah  Ying ;  a 
Chinaman  pays  according  to  the  length  of  time  he  purposes 
to  stay.  For  ten  cents  he  can  stay  so  long ;  for  fifteen  cents,  a 
little  longer;  for  twenty-five  cents,  he  can  remain  all  night. 
The  play  usually  begins  at  five  o'clock,  and  well-to-do  China 
men  pay  a  quarter,  and  stay  from  that  hour  until  midnight. 
Yuen  Sing,  manager  of  the  Po  Wah  Ying,  was  an  actor  of 
note  in  China.  He  was  a  female  impersonator,  and  received 
the,  for  China,  large  sum  of  $6000  a  year.  The  salary  of  an 
ordinary  actor  is  only  $350.  The  leader  of  the  orchestra  gets 
several  hundred  dollars  a  year  more  than  the  actors;  and  he  de 
serves  it,  for  he  has  to  listen  to  his  own  music,  evolved  from  a 
sort  of  fiddle  with  two  strings — an  infliction  which  would  kill 
a  Caucasian  before  the  year  was  half  through. 

On  the  night  of  my  visit  to  the  Chinese  theatre,  I  was  sur 
prised  to  see  among  the  few  Caucasian  spectators  Mr.  Arnold 


CALIFORNIA. 


189 


Strotliotte  ("Maurice  Arnold"),  whom  I  had  last  seen  in  Tar- 
key,  on  the  shores  of  the  Bosporus.  Readers  of  my  "  Tramp 
Trip"  will  recall  the  Dervish  melodies  which  Mr.  Strotliotte 
furnished  me  (pages  192  and  193).  At  my  request  the  tal 
ented  young  composer  took  out  his  note-book  and  jotted  down 
the  music  played  by  the  Chinese  orchestra  from  their  stand  on 
the  stage.  The  following  air  was  played  by  Mr.  Fong  Fang  on 
an  instrument  not  unlike  a  zither  : 


gggEJfeygial 


=I 


190 


THE   TEAMP  AT    HOME. 


The  principal  refrain  of  the  orchestra — a  refrain  played  again 
and  again,  on  wheezing  Chinese  fiddles — amid  the  clash  of 
cymbals  and  gongs,  ran  thus  : 


Repeats  12  t^mes. 


The  next  air  noted  by  Mr.  Strothotte  was  that  sung  by  the 
actors — the  only  air  that  is  not  calculated  to  drive  a  Caucasian 
musician  wild  : 


:- 

-*~  »~r~ 


1 


CALIFORNIA. 


191 


i 


(2. 


I 

It  seems  difficult  for  the  Chinese  to  understand  English. 

3  ' 

though  they  sometimes  feign  to  be  more  ignorant  than  they 
really  are.  When  breakfasting  with  a  family  one  day,  the 
Chinese  cook  came  in  while  we  were  at  table. 

"  Boss,  me  want  money ;  me  go,"  he  said,  excitedly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  John  ?"  asked  the  gentleman. 

"  Mellycan  woman  talkee  too  much  ;  she  too  sassy." 

The  "  sassy  "  lady  had  gently  requested  her  cook  to  be  care 
ful  and  not  burn  the  bread.  The  feelings  of  Celestial  cooks 
are  delicate.  They  fly  up  at  a  moment's  notice,  demand  their 
money,  walk  over  to  Chinatown,  and  live  on  a  few  grains  of 
rice  until  they  find  another  situation. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  an  outline  of  the  social  and  industrial  con 
dition  of  the  Chinese  in  San  Francisco.  Without  dwelling  on 
the  woman  slave-trade,  on  the  "  Six  Companies,"  who  import 
labor  under  contract,  and  enforce  their  laws  and  regulations  by 


192  THE    TRAMP   AT    HOME. 

courts  and  tribunals  of  their  own,  enough  has  already  been  said 
to  prove  the  truth  of  the  assertion  that  the  Chinese  do  not  as 
similate  with  the  Caucasians,  and  that  their  presence  among  us 
is  the  presence  of  a  foreign  substance  in  the  side  of  society, 
with  an  effect  injurious  just  in  proportion  as  the  number  of 
Chinese  is  large.  One  hundred  thousand,  or  even  half  a  mill 
ion,  Chinese  may  not  be  felt,  but  let  five,  ten,  or  a  hundred 
millions  settle  in  America,  and  our  civilization  will  be  Mongo 
lian,  not  Caucasian.  Europeans  who  come  to  this  country  do 
not  remain  Europeans.  They  adopt  our  ideas,  and  their  chil 
dren  forget  that  their  parents  ever  lived  in  the  kingdoms  of 
Europe.  They  become  Americans  in  language,  customs,  relig 
ion,  but  the  Chinese  cannot,  or  do  not,  change.  When  they 
come  to  America  they  bring  China  with  them — bring  the  most 
odious  features  of  their  superannuated  civilization — polygamy, 
the  slavery  of  women,  obedience  to  Chinese  laws,  and  the  opium 
habit. 

The  fear  that  large  numbers  will  come,  if  permitted,  is  not 
absurd.  When  the  first  ship-load  of  negroes  were  brought  from 
Africa  and  landed  on  New  England  soil,  who  fancied,  or  feared, 
that  they  would  come  to  have  the  majority  in  number  in  some  of 
the  fairest  States  of  this  Union  ?  Who  imagined  that  they  would 
become  a  political  factor,  causing  fierce  battles  and  the  expendi 
ture  of  billions  of  money,  as  well  as  the  shedding  of  rivers  of 
blood  ?  Who  then  dreamed  that  the  time  would  come  when 
the  negroes  would  outnumber  the  whites  five  to  one,  as  in 
counties  in  Mississippi,  and  cause  many  of  the  whites  to  aban 
don  the  country  ? 

As  the  negro  has  retarded  development  in  the  South  by  dis 
couraging  the  immigration  of  the  more  intelligent  peasantry  of 
Europe,  so  the  Chinese,  if  not  restricted,  will  in  all  probability 
injure  the  Pacific  coast,  and  ultimately  the  whole  country,  by 
keeping  away  intelligent  and  skilled  white  men  and  women. 


CALIFOKNIA — CONTINUED.  193 


CHAPTER  XV. 
CALIFORNIA — con  tin ued. 

THE  MYTHICAL  CITIES  OF  THE  GOLDEN  STATE. —  HOW  LAND  IS 
MONOPOLIZED,  AND  WHY  WAGES  IN  THE  FAR  WEST  ARE  GROW 
ING  SMALLER. —  A  PACK-MULE  TRIP  OVER  THE  COAST  RANGE 
MOUNTAINS. —  A  FRONTIERSMAN  RIDING  COW-BACK. —  LOCATING 
A  TIMBER  CLAIM. —  REAL -ESTATE  SPECULATIONS  ON  THE  SANDY 
PLAINS  OF  SAN  DIEGO. — CALIFORNIA  HOSPITALITY. — HYDRAULIC 
MINING. —  HUNTING  BEAR  WITH  SIBERIAN  BLOOD-HOUNDS. 

TRAVELLERS  are  accustomed  to  a  certain  kind  of  hospitality 
in  ajl  American  cities,  both  large  and  small.  The  moment  you 
arrive  in  a  town  you  find  a  dozen  men  willing,  eager,  to  have  you 
accept  of  their  hospitality,  to  have  you  ride  in  their  carriages, 
sleep  in  their  hotels,  and  eat  at  their  tables.  To  this  kind  of 
hospitality — a  costly  kind  to  the  recipient — I  had  long  been 
accustomed  in  my  travels  through  Europe  and  America;  but 
I  was  unprepared  for  a  kind  of  hospitality  which  greeted  me 
in  most  of  the  California  towns  that  I  visited.  On  returning 
from  the  Court-house  in  San  Diego  one  morning,  where  I  had 
been  looking  up  the  divorce  records,  I  was  approached  by  a 
flashily  dressed  man,  who  took  me  by  the  hand  as  cordially  as 
if  we  had  been  life-long  friends. 

"  Mr.  Meriwether?"  he  said,  jovially. 

I  admitted  my  identity. 

"  From  Washington,  I  see." 

"  How  do  you  see?" 

"  From  the  hotel  register,  of  course.  My  name  is  Harring 
ton.  We  are  always  glad  to  see  Easterners  out  here.  Like  to 
see  'em  have  a  nice  time.  Going  to  stay  long  in  town  ?" 

"  No,  not  very." 

There  was  nothing  in  this  reply  calculated  to  encourage  con- 
9 


194  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

versation,  but  Mr.  Harrington  did  not  need  encouragement, 
He  started  off  again  as  volubly  as  if  I  had  begged  him  to 
continue. 

"  I  have  a  nice  team  outside,"  he  said.  "  Wouldn't  you  like 
to  take  a  spin  ?  Nice  country,  fine  roads." 

There  was  something  flattering  in  the  idea  of  making  such 
an  impression  on  the  natives  as  to  induce  them  on  five  minutes' 
acquaintance  to  take  me  driving.  I  got  into  Mr.  Harrington's 
buggy,  and  soon  was  bowling  along  a  dusty  road,  drawn  by 
two  ponies.  They  were  scrubby  ponies,  but  they  travelled 
fast,  and  seemed  accustomed  to  the  lash  of  Mr.  Harrington's 
whip  and  the  chatter  of  his  tongue.  In  San  Diego  the  signs 
on  every  side  pointed  to  boom  and  prosperity.  New  houses 
were  going  up,  men  were  digging  sewers  and  laying  pipes  and 
pavements.  It  seemed  as  if  a  lot  of  people  had  been  disem 
barked  there  in  the  morning,  and  all  were  in  a  hurry  to  get  a 
roof  over  their  heads  before  night. 

This  bustle  and  life,  however,  was  soon  left  behind,  and  we 
were  on  a  houseless  and  treeless  desert.  San  Diego  has  no 
suburbs.  Mr.  Harrington  did  not  seem  to  be  aware  of  this 
fact.  He  showed  me  rows  of  stakes  planted  in  the  sand,  and 
talked  eloquently  of  the  beauties  of  the  site  and  the  climate, 
of  the  rapidity  with  which  San  Diego  was  growing. 

"  Why,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  "  in  five  years 
the  heart  of  the  city  will  be  where  we  are  now.  Stately  build 
ings  will  rise  like  magic  on  these  sand-fields.  It  is  a  great 
chance  to  make  a  fortune." 

"And  to  lose  one." 

Mr.  Harrington  observed  me  with  a  pitying  look. 

"  Lose  a  fortune  ?  Well,  of  course  you  don't  understand ; 
you  haven't  been  here  long  enough.  There  was  a  man  who 
came  here  from  Washington  last  week.  He  meant  to  stay 
only  a  day,  and  laughed  when  I  told  him  he  ought  to  make  a 
little  investment  before  going  back  East.  But  when  he  had 
been  here  two  days  he  saw  that  it  was  not  a  laughing  matter. 
I  showed  him  a  good  chance.  Yesterday  he  sold  the  lots  I  got 


CALIFORNIA — CONTINUED.  1  95 

for  him,  and  he  made  fifteen  hundred  dollars  by  the  specula 
tion." 

During  the  rest  of  our  ride  I  looked  at  sand-hills,  and  lis 
tened  to  Mr.  Harrington's  tales  of  the  fortunes  made  by  tour 
ists  who  merely  stopped  off,  as  it  were,  en  route  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  and  made  a  few  thousand  dollars  in  the  course  of  a  day 
or  so,  to  pay  the  expenses  of  their  trip  from  the  East. 

"  You  had  better  try  your  hand,"  said  Mr.  Harrington,  after 
we  had  driven  back  to  the  hotel.  "  I  know  of  several  nice 
bargains,  and  wouldn't  in  the  least  mind  putting  you  onto 
them.  You  needn't  do  anything  more  than  pay  a  deposit. 
That  secures  the  land ;  in  a  week  you  can  sell  for  an  advance 
of  forty  or  fifty  per  cent.  There's  no  easier  way  to  get  the 
expenses  of  your  trip  from  Washington  paid." 

"  No  easier  way  except  one,"  said  I ;  "  that  is,  to  have  Uncle 
Sam  pay  them." 

Mr.  Harrington's  face  showed  disappointment  at  this  repl}T, 
which  became  more  marked  when,  in  answer  to  further  argu 
ments,  I  positively  declined  to  accept  his  kindly  proffered 
pointers  in  purchasing  real  estate. 

Shortly  after,  in  San  Bernardino,  the  capital  of  Kern,  the 
adjoining  county,  I  was  approached  by  another  stranger  in  the 
same  manner  as  that  in  which  Mr.  Harrington  had  made  him 
self  known  to  me.  In  many  other  towns  I  had  similar  experi 
ences  with  showy,  vivacious  men  who  had  teams,  with  which  they 
were  anxious  to  take  me  driving.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say 
that  these  men  were  real -estate  agents.  They  "spot""  every 
stranger  from  the  East,  and  try  to  sell  real  estate  composed  of 
ten  parts  of  land  and  ninety  parts  sand,  climate,  and  "  boom." 
The  country  for  miles  around  Los  Angeles  is  staked  off  into 
twenty-five-foot  lots.  Around  San  Diego  and  other  cities  in 
Southern  California  the  land  is  appropriated,  and  held  at  the 
price  which  speculators  think  increasing  population  will  soon 
make  it  worth.  In  Northern  California,  land  enough  to  sup 
port  ten  millions  of  people  is  withheld  from  occupation  by 
speculators  awaiting  increased  population.  I  saw  a  "  city  "  in 


196  THE   TRAMP   AT    HOME. 

Colusa  County  that  did  not  contain  a  single  house  or  inhabi 
tant  ;  but  in  the  real-estate  circulars  immigrants  were  told  that 
the  "  city  "  of  Fruto  was  a  flourishing  place,  with  hotels,  ex 
press  offices,  telegraph  offices,  and  banks.  There  was,  in  reality, 
only  a  stubble-field  staked  off  into  town  lots.  Farmers  of 
small  means  go  to  California.  They  find  city-lot  prices  asked 
for  grain-fields,  as  in  the  case  of  Fruto  ;  and  being,  of  course, 
unable  to  pay  any  such  prices,  they  crowd  into  San  Francisco 
and  the  large  towns.  Thus  it  is  that,  even  in  California,  the 
land  of  plenty,  of  vast  territory  and  fertile  soil,  there  are  pov 
erty  and  misery,  and  strikes  against  low  wages. 

This  withholding  of  the  land  from  occupation,  both  by 
speculators  and  by  large  ranch-owners,  has  so  direct  a  con 
nection  with  the  "  labor  question  "  on  the  Pacific  coast  that  I 
gave  the  matter  particular  attention.  I  went  to  a  real-estate 
office  in  San  Francisco  and  told  the  agent  I  was  looking  for 
investments. 

"  There  are  two  kinds  of  investments  that  will  pay  big  profits," 
said  the  agent.  "  Put  your  money  in  land  or  timber." 

I  had  already  seen  enough  of  the  way  in  which  land  was 
bought  up  and  withheld  from  actual  settlers;  I  now  asked 
about  the  timber  appropriations. 

"  The  red-wood  of  Ilumboldt  and  Mendocino  counties  is  very 
valuable.  It  takes  a  splendid  polish,  won't  burn  (it  actually  is 
"atf  almost  fire-proof  wood),  will  make  fine  furniture,  and  is  the 
only  wood  in  California  fit  for  building  purposes.  Locate  a 
claim,  and  you  will  be  a  rich  man  in  five  years.  You  won't 
have  to  do  a  stroke  of  work.  Simply  wait  until  people  are 
obliged  to  have  your  timber,  then  charge  what  you  like." 

The  agent  said  that  his  charge  for  revealing  the  location  of 
Government  timber  land  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars — a 
mere  bagatelle  in  comparison  to  the  hundred  or  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars  that  my  claim  would  be  worth  in  five 
years.  I  did  not  care  to  invest  with  the  agent.  The  better 
plan  seemed  to  me  to  go  to  the  timber  regions,  see  the  settlers, 
and  get  their  views  on  the  question.  I  got  a  guide,  a  pack- 


CALIFORNIA — CONTINUED.  197 

mule  loaded  with  hams,  bacon,  pans,  pots,  and  a  general  assort 
ment  of  provisions,  and  blankets,  and  made  my  start  from  a 
small  rail  road -station  two  hundred  miles  north  of  San  Fran 
cisco.  For  an  entire  day  the  way  lay  through  a  vast  wheat-field. 
We  reached  the  foot-hills  of  the  Coast  Range  early  in  the  after 
noon  of  the  second  day,  and  by  the  same  night  were  on  the 
summit.  It  was  a  welcome  change  from  the  intense  heat  of  the 
valley.  Ten  hours  before,  we  were  baked  in  an  atmosphere  heat 
ed  to  the  temperature  of  a  Turkish  bath ;  now  we  had  to  build  a 
fire  and  wrap  ourselves  in  blankets  to  keep  from  freezing.  The 
first  night  on  that  peak  of  the  Coast  Range  Mountains  was  a 
lonely  one.  A  hundred  miles  to  the  east  we  could  see  the  snow 
capped  summit  of  the  Sierras.  Above  and  around  us  was  only 
a  vast  solitude.  For  a  long  time  after  I  had  wrapped  myself  in 
blankets  and  lain  on  the  ground,  I  gazed  up  at  the  stars,  going 
back  in  fancy  to  those  days,  the  very  infancy  of  the  world, 
when  Chaldean  shepherds  slept  out  under  the  stars,  and  made 
the  first  rude  observations  that  in  future  ages  were  to  develop 
into  the  grand  science  of  astronomy. 

On  the  next  day  we  came  across  a  cabin  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  mountains.  The  owner  was  a  mechanic,  as  was  shown  by 
the  ingenious  way  he  raised  his  water  from  a  spring  several 
hundred  feet  below  his  cabin.  A  wire  ran  from  the  cabin  to 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  By  drawing  a  bucket  up  and  down 
this  wire,  tiresome  trips  up  and  down  the  hill  were  saved. 
When  we  first  encountered  the  owner  of  this  lonesome  hut  he 
was  riding  a  cow ;  by  his  side  rode  a  boy  on  a  two-year-old 
calf.  The  man  had  a  saddle,  the  boy  was  riding  bareback. 

"  A  new  kind  of  horse,"  I  said,  pleasantly,  as  we  drew  up. 

"  'Tain't  a  horse,  it's  a  cow,"  replied  the  mountaineer,  with 
the  utmost  seriousness. 

"  Huntin'  baar  ?"  he  continued. 

"  No ;  we  are  looking  for  timber." 

The  man  on  the  cow  whistled  and  stared  at  us. 

"Huntin'  timber?  Well,  you're  in  the  wrong  deestrict  for 
timber.  Timber  land  don't  begin  for  fifty  mile  north  o'  here," 


198  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

In  the  afternoon  we  passed  an  Indian  "  rancherie."  A  dozen 
Digger  Indians,  who  were  squatting  on  the  floor  of  the  low 
tepee,  sat  perfectly  motionless  as  we  approached.  The  Digger 
Indians  are  inferior  to  the  Comanches  and  Arapahoes.  They 
have  a  more  dejected,  cowed  look.  One  old  fellow  was  sitting 
on  the  ground  in  his  bark  hut,  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  his 
energy  and  curiosity  so  small  that  he  did  not  even  look  up 
when  I  entered.  The  only  members  of  the  community  who 
appeared  to  have  any  life  were  the  women.  It  must  have  been 
"  bake  day,"  for  every  woman  was  down  at  the  creek  making 
"  penola,"  a  kind  of  bread  made  of  acorns.  A  fire  is  first  made 
to  heat  the  ground,  then  a  basin  of  sand  is  built,  into  which  is 
poured  a  mixture  of  pulverized  acorns  and  water.  This  mixture 
is  cooked  to  the  consistency  of  thick  mush  by  means  of  hot 
stones  placed  around  the  sides  of  the  sand  basin  and  in  the 
mixture  itself.  The  old  hags  whom  we  saw  engaged  at  this 
work  were  evidently  proud  of  their  culinary  skill.  Every  few 
minutes  they  thrust  their  hands  into  the  paste,  then  withdrew 
them,  and  sucked  off  the  paste  and  smacked  their  lips. 

With  the  exception  of  these  Digger  Indians  and  a  few  trap 
pers,  I  found  the  timber  district  the  home  only  of  bears  and 
other  wild  beasts.  There  are  few  or  no  lona-fide  settlers.  The 
timber  claims  are  made  by  speculators ;  many  even  evade  the 
law  by  employing  "  dummies,"  who  take  up  the  land  from  the 
Government  ostensibly  for  their  own  use,  but  in  reality  for  the 
syndicate  or  capitalist  employing  them.  In  every  instance  where 
a  genuine  settler  was  seen  an  attempt  was  made  to  deceive  me. 
Until  I  explained  that  I  did  not  mean  to  locate  a  claim,  that  I 
was  merely  on  a  tour  of  investigation,  I  invariably  found  my 
self  in  the  wrong  "deestrict"  for  timber.  The  hardy  frontiers 
men  who  clear  away  forests  and  war  with  Indians  and  wild 
beasts  feel  a  natural  antipathy  for  the  speculators  who  step  in 
and,  with  the  power  of  money,  appropriate  vast  territories. 
They  deceive  whenever  they  can.  Had  I  listened  to  them 
alone,  I  should  have  left  California  with  the  impression  that  it 
had  no  timber  land  at  all. 


CALIFORNIA. — CONTINUED.  199 

The  line  of  investigation  indicated  in  this  chapter  was  fol 
lowed  with  some  hardships,  though,  I  must  confess,  with  some 
interesting  experiences  and  adventures  also,  and  resulted  in  a 
table  showing  the  effect  on  wages  of  the  enormous  land  appro 
priations  in  California.  As  it  is  not  meant  to  burden  this  book 
with  statistics,  the  table  will  not  be  given.  I  shall  simply  state 
that  a  careful  observation  of  conditions  in  all  parts  of  the  Gold 
en  State  reveals  a  close  connection  between  the  question  of  wages 
and  the  question  of  land  monopoly.  Study  the  wages  paid  in 
California  at  different  times,  and  in  different  portions  of  the 
State,  study  also  the  manner  and  extent  of  the  land  appropria 
tions,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  the  one  is  a  reflex  of  the  other. 
Given  the  extent  of  land  monopoly  through  large  holdings  and 
speculative  syndicate  purchases,  and  the  condition  of  California 
labor  can  be  told  without  further  data. 

Within  the  memory  of  men  still  considered  young,  laborers 
in  California  commanded  from  $5  to  $10  a  day.  But  those 
were  days  when  there  were  no  "cities"  like  Fruto;  when  there 
were  no  fifty -five-thousand-acre  ranches;  when  every  man  was 
free  to  command  his  living  from  the  boundless  territory  around 
him. 

The  owner  of  a  ship  on  the  ocean  can  make  men  work  at 
what  wages  he  will.  What  if  they  are  not  content  ?  Men  can 
not  live  on  the  water,  so  they  are  compelled  to  stick  to  the  ship, 
be  the  wages  big  or  little.  And  so  ashore,  if  syndicates  and 
capitalists  are  permitted  to  monopolize  the  land,  laborers,  since 
they  cannot  live  in  the  air,  will  be  forced  to  crowd  into  cities, 
and  work  for  wages  fixed  by  the  keenest  sort  of  competition. 

The  most  casual  observer  in  California  can  see  practical  il 
lustrations  of  this  principle.  He  may  go  to  the  depot  in  San 
Francisco,  and  see  every  day  immigrants  from  Europe,  and 
from  the  Eastern  States  of  the  Union.  These  immigrants  will 
tell  him  that  they  did  not  come  to  California  expecting  to  live 
in  a  city ;  but  they  were  unable  to  pay  speculative  prices  for 
farm  land,  and  thus  had  no  other  alternative  than  to  crowd 
into  San  Francisco,  Los  Angeles,  and  the  smaller  towns,  adding 


200  THE    TJBAMP    AT    HOME. 

in  that  way  to  the  already  keen  competition  existing  in  those 
places. 

In  returning  from  my  pack-mule  trip  to  the  red-wood  tim 
ber  lands,  I  passed  through  what  was  formerly  the  richest  part 
of  California.  From  one  red  sandy  hill  pointed  out  to  me  was 
once  taken  in  four  days  $108,000  in  gold-dust.  Millions  of 
dollars'  worth  of  gold-dust  still  remains  in  these  sand-hills,  but 
no  one  can  legally  mine  it.  The  reason  of  this  is  because  the 
only  method  by  which  the  fine  dust  can  be  obtained  is  the  hy 
draulic  method.  That  method  washes  down  such  immense 
masses  of  debris  that  the  valleys  and  rivers  become  choked. 
Some  years  ago  the  town  of  Marysville  stood  on  a  bank  twenty 
feet  above  the  Sacramento  River.  Now  the  river  has  become 
so  choked  with  mining  debris  that  its  bed  is  higher  than  its 
surface  formerly  was,  and  Marysville  is  saved  from  destruction 
only  by  a  high  dike,  or  levee.  For  a  long  time  the  inland 
towns  suffered  from  inundations.  The  dikes  around  Marys 
ville  broke  once,  and  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Sacramento 
flooded  the  town  to  a  depth  of  ten  or  twelve  feet.  Finally, 
the  Bay  of  San  Francisco  itself  showed  indications  of  filling  up 
and  becoming  unfit  for  navigation.  This  aroused  enough  op 
position  to  the  hydraulic  mining  process  to  procure  the  en 
actment  of  a  law  forbidding  that  process  under  penalty  of  heavy 
fine  and  imprisonment.  Since  the  enactment  of  that  law  there 
has,  of  course,  been  less  hydraulic  mining  ;  but  where  such 
large  interests  are  at  stake  perfect  enforcement  of  the  law  is 
difficult,  if  not  impossible.  I  saw  big  iron  pipes  forcing  water 
to  the  tops  of  high  hills.  When  I  asked  why  water  was  con 
veyed  to  the  tops  of  such  barren-looking  hills,  miners  laughed, 
and  said  it  was  for  "  irrigation."  A  bitter  warfare  is  waged 
between  the  valley  people,  to  whom  hydraulic  mining  means 
drowning,  and  the  miners,  to  whom  it  means  thousands  of  dol 
lars  in  gold-dust. 

One  night,  on  my  return  trip  from  the  timber  land  expedi 
tion,  as  I  was  going  along  at  a  pretty  sharp  gait,  looking  for  a 


CALIFORNIA — CONTINUED.  201 

suitable  place  to  camp  for  the  night,  I  heard  a  roaring  noise 
that  came  from  the  side  of  a  hill  half  a  mile  away.  Red  lights 
flickered  on  the  hill,  and  through  curiosity  I  turned  my  horse's 
head  and  rode  over  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  noise  and  the 
meaning  of  the  lights.  It  was  a  weird  scene.  A  dozen  grim, 
determined-looking  miners  were  directing  a  stream  of  water  a 
foot  thick  against  the  side  of  the  hill.  On  my  approach  they 
shut  off  the  water,  and  one  of  them  shouted  to  me  to  hold  up 
my  hands.  I  had  heard  of  the  reception  given  "  valley  "  spies 
by  men  engaged  in  hydraulic  mining;  but  as  I  was  not  a  spy, 
I  felt  no  alarm  when  confronted  with  the  command  to  hold  up 
my  arms.  One  of  the  grizzly-bearded  fellows  disarmed  me, 
then  demanded  who  I  was,  and  what  I  was  doing  in  the  mount 
ains.  I  told  him.  He  was  dubious  at  first,  but  my  letters 
and  credentials  compelled  his  belief. 

"  It's  dern  lucky  for  you  that  you  ain't  a  spy !"  he  said. 
"Them  valley  fellers  have  been  a-spyin'  aroun'  a  leetle  bit  too 
much.  We  ain't  agoin'  to  let  all  this  gold  go  to  rot,  an'  if 
we  ketch  any  spies  we're  agoin'  to  let  daylight  through  'em  !" 

I  had  been  warned  not  to  go  where  men  were  mining  against 
the  law,  lest  I  should  be  taken  for  a  spy.  Several  men  had 
lost  their  lives  shortly  before,  and  the  Marysville  jail  was  full 
of  miners  guilty  of  using  the  hydraulic  process,  and  of  maim 
ing  or  killing  men  sent  to  watch  them. 

Sportsmen  may  like  to  know  that  the  Coast  Range  of  mount 
ains  abound  in  game,  both  large  and  small.  During  part  of 
my  trip  I  was  accompanied  by  an  old  frontiersman,  who  had 
three  Siberian  blood-hounds.  These  savage  animals  were  splen 
did  bear-hunters.  Two  were  kept  chained  together  ;  the  third 
roamed  about  until  he  found  a  bear-trail.  We  waited  until  his 
yelping  told  that  a  bear  was  scented,  then  unchained  the  two 
hounds,  and  set  out  on  the  chase.  The  old  woodsman  said 
that  Plato  never  gave  a  false  alarm.  When  he  gave  a  loud, 
long  yelp  there  was  sure  to  be  a  bear  within  a  mile  or  two.  It 
was  wonderful  to  see  the  savage  dog  nosing  about,  crossing  and 
recrossing  his  tracks,  following  every  step  of  the  bear  until  at 
9* 


202  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

last  he  caine  into  the  presence  of  Bruin  himself.  The  woods 
man  endeavored  always  to  be  present  when  the  bear  was  treed, 
for  Plato  would  not  hesitate  to  attack  the  ugliest  grizzly ;  even 
a  Siberian  blood -hound  is  no  match  for  a  thousand -pound 
California  bear.  With  Plato  and  the  two  other  hounds  we 
managed  to  get  a  bear  and  several  deer  in  one  day. 

Sportsmen  desirous  of  capturing  good  game,  and  of  having 
an  enjoyable  camp-out,  should  try  the  Coast  Range.  Take  the 
cars  from  San  Francisco  to  Cloverdale,  thence  by  stage  to 
Ukiah.  From  Ukiah  the  trip  into  the  mountains  must  be 
made  on  horseback,  with  pack-mule  and  camping  outfit. 


SAILORS'    WOES.  203 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


RAILROADS  VERSUS  PEOPLE.  —  TWO  OPPOSITE  VIEWS.  — ORIGIN  OP 
THE  LABOR  BUREAU.  — CARROLL  D.  WRIGHT,  COMMISSIONER  AND 
STATISTICIAN.  —  THE  SEAMEN'S  STRIKE.  —  HOW  POOR  JACK  IS 
TREATED.  —  EXTRACTS  FROM  TESTIMONY  GIVEN  IN  THE  OFFICIAL 
INVESTIGATION. 

I  CALLED,  one  Sunday,  on  two  prominent  California  lawyers, 
one  a  railroad  lawyer,  the  other  an  anti-railroad  lawyer. 

"The  people,"  said  the  railroad  lawyer,  "forget  the  great 
benefits  the  railroads  confer.  They  forget  stage-coach  days, 
when  fares  were  twenty-five  cents  a  mile ;  above  all,  they  for 
get  that  a  road  over  a  sandy  desert  cannot  be  operated  as 
cheaply  as  the  New  York  Central,  with  millions  of  population 
along  the  line.  The  Central  and  Southern  Pacific  railroads 
traverse,  for  the  most  part,  barren,  desert  country.  The  South 
ern  Pacific  crosses  the  entire  length  of  the  Arizona  Desert. 
Can  two-cents-a-mile  fares  be  expected  in  such  a  country  ?  In 
1883  the  total  number  of  passengers  carried  by  the  lines  I  have 
mentioned  was  nearly  nine  millions.  The  total  mileage  for 
one  person  would  have  been  291,109,508  miles.  The  travel 
ler  of  this  distance  could  have  gone  to  the  sun  and  back,  then 
taken  a  trip  to  the  moon,  returned,  and  travelled  half  a  dozen 
times  around  the  globe,  and  gone  half-way  back  to  the  sun 
again.  How  impossible  would  this  statement  have  been  twen 
ty  years  ago,  before  these  roads  were  built !  They  have  opened 
the  country,  made  the  desert  bloom,  and  added  millions  to  the 
wealth  of  the  people." 

"'Added  millions  to  the  wealth  of  the  people!'"  said  the 
other  lawyer.  "What  about  the  millions  added  to  the  wealth 
of  the  railroad  kings  ?  Such  men  are  dangerous  to  the  State. 


204  THE   TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

They  ought  to  be  banished,  as  the  Romans  banished  men  who 
were  declared  public  enemies.  If  any  one  of  these  railroad 
kings  wanted  to  put  you  or  me  in  prison,  he  could  do  it,  and  no 
power  could  save  us.  Grand-juries  would  indict,  petit-juries 
would  convict,  and  judges  would  sentence.  When  a  man  makes 
himself  dangerous  to  the  railroad  kings  they  first  try  to  buy 
him  out,  and  they  generally  succeed.  But  should  they  fail  in 
that,  he  is  got  out  of  the  way  in  a  far  more  disagreeable  man 
ner.  Dennis  Kearney  made  himself  dangerous  to  the  railroads. 
He  spoke  to  the  people  boldly  —  told  them  how  they  were 
being  crushed  under  the  heels  of  monopoly.  Tliere  was  dan 
ger  that  if  the  people  were  awakened  they  would  pass  laws  to 
compel  the  roads  to  pay  their  taxes,  and  make  just  return  for 
valuable  franchises  and  rights.  The  railroads  found  it  neces 
sary  to  put  Kearney  out  of  the  way.  He  was  offered  two  alter 
natives — either  to  retire  on  a  pension,  or  to  retire  within  the 
walls  of  the  State-prison.  Not  being  made  of  the  stuff  of 
which  martyrs  are  made,  he  accepted  the  former.  A  dozen 
indictments  were  hanging  over  his  head.  He  knew  that  the 
power  behind  the  throne  would  convict,  justly  or  unjustly. 
He  took  the  money  of  the  roads  and  was  silent.  Legislators 
pledged  to  make  the  roads  pay  their  taxes  have  been  elected. 
One  man  made  a  bitter  speech  on  the  floor  of  the  House  de 
nouncing  the  conduct  of  the  roads.  At  the  conclusion  of  his 
speech  he  was  called  into  one  of  the  anterooms  by  a  well- 
known  railroad  agent.  He  was  gone  twenty  minutes.  Some 
powerful  argument  must  have  been  brought  to  bear,  for  when 
he  entered  the  House  he  voted  against  his  own  bill.  Some  day 
the  judges  and  legislators  will  be  strung  up  with  ropes  around 
their  necks.  I  hardly  expect  any  genuine  improvement  in  the 
situation  until  some  heroic  measure  of  that  kind  has  been 
adopted." 

Many  persons,  when  I  apply  for  information,  ask  what  the 
"  Labor  Bureau  "  is,  what  results  it  expects  to  accomplish,  and 
what  is  done  with  the  facts  collected.  A  word  or  two  by  way 
of  answer  to  these  questions  may  not  be  amiss. 


SAILORS'  WOES.  205 

The  province  of  a  labor  bureau  is  to  gather  all  statistics  re 
lating  to  the  subject  of  labor — the  cost  of  production,  the  cost 
of  living,  the  causes  of  strikes,  of  boycotts;  the  results  effected, 
whether  good  or  bad,  by  working -men's  organizations,  etc. 
This  information,  when  gathered,  is  laid  before  law-makers  to 
use  as  a  basis  on  which  to  construct  legislation.  The  first 
State  to  establish  such  a  bureau  was  Massachusetts.  Shortly 
after,  Col.  Carroll  D.  Wright,  who  in  the  State  Senate  had 
shown  a  liking  and  a  capacity  for  framing  measures  looking 
towards  the  welfare  of  the  working-classes,  was  appointed  by 
the  Governor  of  Massachusetts  to  the  post  of  Chief  of  the  Bu 
reau  of  Labor  Statistics.  In  this  post  Colonel  Wright  displayed 
much  ability.  His  reports  on  the  condition  of  factory  labor, 
on  the  education  of  working-children,  on  working-women,  and 
on  other  phases  of  the  "  labor  question,"  were  thorough  and  ex 
haustive,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  national  as  well  as  State 
legislators.  He  was  deputed  by  the  Government  at  Washing 
ton  to  visit  Europe  as  a  special  agent  to  report  upon  the  fac 
tory  system  there;  and  in  1885,  Congress  having  established  a 
National  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  the  President  appointed 
Colonel  Wright  chief  of  that  bureau.  Three  voluminous  re 
ports  have  already  been  issued — one  on  Industrial  Depressions, 
another  on  Convict  Labor,  and  a  third  on  Strikes  from  1881 
to  1886.  Following  these  will  come  reports  on  the  Cost  of 
Production,  the  Distribution  of  Necessaries  of  Life,  the  Con 
ditions  surrounding  Railroad  Labor,  and  the  Social,  Moral, 
and  Industrial  Status  of  Working-women  in  Cities.  It  is  not 
unreasonable  to  surmise  that  State  Legislatures  and  Congress 
will  be  able  to  evolve  better  legislation  on  these  subjects,  with 
the  mass  of  data  thus  submitted,  than  they  could  do  without 
such  data.  The  law  under  which  the  bureau  is  organized  is  a 
broad  one,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior 
almost  any  question  affecting  the  economic,  social,  and  moral 
welfare  of  the  people  may  be  made  the  subject  of  investiga 
tion.  The  present  commissioner  is  one  of  the  most  able  stat 
isticians  in  the  Lynion ;  his  reports  furnish  Congressmen  with  a 


200  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

good  many  of  the  facts  which  from  time  to  time  they  throw  out 
to  the  country  in  speeches  on  the  floors  of  the  Senate  and  House. 

Since  the  above  was  written,  Congress  has  passed  an  act  es 
tablishing  a  Department  of  Labor.  By  this  change  from  a 
Bureau  to  a  Department  the  commissioner,  instead  of  the  Sec 
retary  of  the  Interior,  is  made  chief,  and  his  reports  are  made 
direct  to  Congress  and  the  President.  According  to  the  act 
establishing  the  Department  of  Labor,  its  general  designs  and 
duties  "  shall  be  to  acquire  and  diffuse  among  the  people  of 
the  United  States  useful  information  on  subjects  connected 
with  labor,  in  the  most  general  and  comprehensive  sense  of 
that  word,  especially  upon  its  relation  to  capital,  the  hours  of 
labor,  the  earnings  of  laboring  men  and  women,  and  the  means 
of  promoting  their  material,  social,  intellectual,  and  moral  pros 
perity." 

Another  section  of  the  act  specially  charges  the  Commis 
sioner  of  Labor  "to  ascertain,  at  as  early  a  date  as  possible, 
and  whenever  industrial  changes  shall  make  it  essential,  the 
cost  of  producing  articles  at  the  time  dutiable  in  the  United 
States  in  leading  countries  where  such  articles  are  produced, 
by  fully  specified  units  of  production,  and  under  a  classifica 
tion  showing  the  different  elements  of  cost,  or  approximate 
cost,  of  such  articles  of  production,  including  the  wages  paid 
in  such  industries  per  day,  week,  month,  or  year,  or  by  the 
piece ;  hours  employed  per  day,  and  the  profits  of  the  manu 
facturers  and  producers  of  such  articles,  and  the  comparative 
cost  of  living,  and  the  kind  of  living.  He  shall  ascertain  what 
articles  are  controlled  by  trusts,  or  other  combinations  of  capi 
tal,  business  operations,  or  labor,  and  what  effect  said  trusts,  or 
other  combinations  of  capital,  business  operations,  or  labor, 
have  on  production  and  prices." 

In  discussing  the  features  of  this  bill,  which  from  the  above 
extract  the  reader  will  see  are  very  broad  and  comprehensive, 
Commissioner  Wright  said : 

"The  old  idea  of  securing  information  has  passed  away,  and  the  im 
portance  of  exact  knowledge  relative  to  industrial  matters  is  clearly  rec- 


207 

ognized.  Labor  leaders  formerly  felt  it  incumbent  upon  themselves  to 
advance  doctrines,  reforms,  and  various  schemes  for  the  amelioration  of 
industrial  conditions.  To-day  these  men  recognize  the  fact  that  the  work 
ing-men  are  best  served  by  a  study  of  all  the  facts  relative  to  production. 
When  bureaus  of  statistics  of  labor  were  first  organized  twenty  years  ago, 
the  idea  prevailed  that  their  province  was  to  discuss  principles,  and  to 
adopt  methods  of  reform,  and*  to  urge  the  same,  not  only  upon  public  at 
tention,  but  upon  the  minds  of  legislators.  The  difficulties  which  arose 
from  this  view  did  much  to  destroy  the  value  of  the  work  of  such  bureaus, 
because  each  man,  or  body  of  men,  had  its  views,  and  an  official  bureau, 
if  it  adopted  any  one  view,  was  bound  to  antagonize  all  others.  Since  the 
first  half-decade  of  these  bureaus,  the  line  of  action  has  been  different ; 
they  have,  almost  without  exception,  directed  their  attention,  not  as  for 
merly,  to  advocating  pet  theories  for  reform,  but  to  the  collection  and 
classification  of  facts  surrounding  production. 

"  The  recent  long  tariff  debate  developed  the  actual  want  of  a  higher 
grade  of  facts — facts  not  in  the  power  of  the  bureau  heretofore  to  secure. 
This  want,  stimulated  by  the  requests  of  labor  organizations,  carried 
through  Congress  the  bill  creating  the  Department  of  Labor.  It  is  one 
of  the  broadest  scientific  movements  which  Congress  has  approved  of  in 
many  sessions.  It  is  an  immense  step  in  the  interest  of  statistical  sci 
ence.  One  of  the  chief  functions  of  statistics  is  to  remove  apprehension 
from  the  public  mind.  Fear  takes  place  when  interested  parties  begin  to 
cry  down  prices ;  industrial  depression  is  feared,  and  all  begin  to  work  on 
the  basis  of  restricted  means.  This  leads  to  artificial  industrial  depres 
sion,  which  could  not  exist  were  the  public  clearly  informed  relative  to  the 
progress  of  the  industries  of  the  country.  The  act  provides  that  the  com 
missioner  shall  establish  a  system  by  which  the  progress  can  be  indicated 
at  intervals  of  not  less  than  two  years.  The  manufacturers  will  readily 
co-operate  with  the  Department,  and  the  result  will  be,  that  at  short  inter 
vals  the  public  can  be  intelligently  informed  of  the  progress  our  industries 
are  making;  or  if  they  are  losing  ground,  this  information  can  also  go  to 
the  public,  and  all  govern  themselves  accordingly.  The  commissioner  can, 
whenever  an  inter-State  strike  occurs,  detail  three  or  four  of  his  most  ex 
pert  special  agents  to  investigate  such  strikes.  The  moral  effect  of  the 
immediate  announcement  of  the  cause  and  result  of  a  great  strike  will  be 
valuable.  Altogether,  I  think  the  greater  scope  of  the  bureau  will  prove 
of  no  little  benefit  to  working-men  in  particular,  and  to  the  country  in 
general." 

The  efforts  of  labor  bureaus  have  also,  I  am  glad  to  say,  di 
rect  as  well  as  indirect  effects.  The  good  they  accomplish  is 


208  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

not  alone  in  affording  law-makers  data  on  which  to  base  laws, 
but  oppressive  evils  have  also  often  been  discovered  and  killed 
by  the  light  thrown  upon  them.  Numerous  cases  could  be 
mentioned  where  the  impositions  practised  by  unscrupulous 
employers  upon  defenceless  employes  have  been  exposed  and 
stopped  ;  but  I  shall  pass  these  by  to  mention  one  case  in  which 
a  whole  class  of  labor  received  at  least  partial  aid  from  the 
publicity  given  to  their  wrongs  by  a  State  bureau  through  its 
agents.* 

The  sailors  of  the  Pacific  coast,  in  the  summer  of  1887,  sent 
a  communication  to  the  California  Labor  Commissioner,  and  to 
me,  as  the  Special  Agent  of  the  United  States  Bureau,  request 
ing  that  an  investigation  be  held  into  the  methods  of  shipping 
and  treating  sailors.  The  investigation  was  held ;  witnesses 
were  subpoenaed  from  both  sides,  employers  and  employes, 
from  all  along  the  coast  from  Washington  Territory  to  the 
southern  point  of  California.  From  the  mass  of  testimony 
taken,  a  most  pernicious  state  of  things  was  shown  to  exist. 
It  was  proved  that  a  sailor,  in  order  to  obtain  a  berth,  had  to 
go  through  a  routine  that  invariably  robbed  him  of  almost  all 
his  possessions  save  the  clothing  on  his  back.  Witnesses  testi 
fied  that  they  had  walked  the  wharves  for  weeks  seeking  places 
from  captains  who  wanted  men,  but  who  refused  to  take  them 
except  through  the  regular  channels ;  that  is,  through  a  board 
ing-house  master.  These  boarding-house  masters  undertake  to 
supply  captains  with  men.  They  get  sailors  into  their  houses, 
make  them  drunk,  charge  them  for  goods  never  received,  and 
•when  squeezed  of  all  they  have,  bundle  them  off  on  a  vessel, 
first  taking  care  to  collect  and  pocket  the  advance-money,  for 
which  they  have  extorted  from  their  victims  written  orders. 
The  printed  report  of  the  testimony  taken  in  this  investigation, 
and  the  publicity  given  to  it  by  the  press  of  California,  threw 

*  It  is  proper  to  state  here  that  my  connection  with  the  Pacific  coast 
sailors'  investigation  was  entirely  at  the  request  of  the  California  Labor 
Commissioner,  and  apart  from  my  proper  duties  as  Special  Agent  of  the 
}sTational  Labor  Department. 


SAILORS'  WOES.  209 

consternation  into  the  ranks  of  the  boarding-house  and  ship 
ping  men,  and  resulted  in  the  formation  of  a  shipping-office  in 
San  Francisco,  where  sailors  could  apply  with  some  hope  of  not 
having  to  go  through  the  boarding-house  or  "shanghaing" 
process.  That  the  reader  may  understand  what  is  meant  by 
shanghaing,  that  he  may"  understand  the  treatment  sailors 
had  to  endure,  I  will  quote  a  few  passages  from  the  sworn  tes 
timony  given  during  the  seamen's  investigation  in  1887. 
From  the  testimony  of  David  McDonald : 

QUESTION.  What  are  the  hours  of  labor  at  sea  ? 

ANSWER.  That  is  hard  to  tell.  Probably  ten  hours,  probably  twenty 
hours,  maybe  forty  hours.  Last  trip  they  worked  sixty-eight  hours,  with 
seven  hours'  sleep. 

Q.  In  what  port  were  men  obliged  to  work  more  than,  say,  twenty-five 
hours? 

A.  On  Puget  Sound. 

Q.  Why  were  they  obliged  to  work  so  many  hours  ? 

A.  When  a  ship  comes  to  Victoria,  we  work  all  night  there,  then  come 
right  across  to  Port  Townsend  in  one  or  two  hours.  Work  is  going  on 
all  the  time  when  inside  the  Sound.  We  can't  take  any  rest  to  speak  of. 
We  are  obliged  to  keep  on  deck  all  the  time. 

Q.  We  would  like  to  collect  evidence  as  to  the  sanitary  condition  of 
sailors.  State  the  size  of  room  in  which  men  are  put. 

A.  In  some  boats  there  is  a  room  six  feet  wide  by  ten  long,  accommo 
dating  ten  or  eleven  men. 

From  the  testimony  of  Joseph  Kelly  : 

Q.  How  are  you  treated  ? 

A.  Sometimes  very  unjustly.  If  you  have  a  grievance  on  board  ship, 
and  you  attempt  to  have  it  corrected,  and  go  to  your  superior  officer,  you 
are  invariably  told  to  go  about  your  business  and  do  as  you  are  told. 

Q.  What  as  to  the  places  in  which  the  men  sleep  ? 

A.  It  is  something  terrible  in  some  instances ;  and  if  I  may  be  permit 
ted,  I  would  like  for  you  and  Mr.  Merhvether  to  go  with  me  and  visit  the 
places  where  the  men  sleep,  and  see  for  yourself.  In  some  cases  twenty 
men  are  crowded  into  a  space  of  eight  by  ten  feet  and  four  feet  wide. 
Twelve  or  thirteen  men  are  obliged  to  sleep  in  there,  with  hardly  any  ven 
tilation.  There  is  no  light  at  all  in  some  of  them ;  in  others  there  is  a 
side-light,  but  at  sea  it  has  to  be  closed.  Hot  pipes  running  through  it 
make  it  almost  unbearable, 


210  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

Another  sailor,  Charles  Lewis,  testifying  as  to  the  accommo 
dations  in  the  forecastle,  said : 

"  Take  the  George  W.  Elder  ^  for  example.  There  are  twelve  men  in  a 
room.  The  bunks  are  about  six  feet  long.  If  two  men  turn  out  in  the 
morning,  nobody  else  can  turn  out  to  dress.  You  can't  carry  your  valise 
to  sea ;  you  have  to  put  it  into  the  '  morning  call.'  There  are  twenty 
men  that  sleep  in  the  '  glory  hole  '  of  the  Queen  of  the  Pacific.  She  is  only 
about  thirty-four  feet  beam  amidships.  When  you  come  to  her  stern, 
why,  of  course,  she  narrows  in.  There  are  twenty  men  to  sleep  down 
there.  The  only  ventilation  has  to  come  through  a  door  that  opens  on 
the  stern.  In  opens  onto  what  is  called  the  '  fantail,'  which  is  where  the 
propeller  is.  There  are  three  or  four  steam-pipes  down  there  belonging 
to  her  steering-gear ;  of  course  that  makes  it  warmer  than  it  otherwise 
would  be.  On  the  Queen  of  the  Pacific,  and  three-quarters  more  of  the 
steamships  on  this  coast,  the  men  have  to  stand  up  and  eat.  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  men  running  backward  and  forward  on  vessels  would 
like  to  get  a  place  to  sit  down  and  eat  their  meals.  Another  thing  I 
would  like  to  call  your  attention  to  is  this :  a  couple  of  trips  ago  I  worked 
a  day  and  a  half  on  the  Queen  of  the  Pacific.  I  asked  for  the  day-and-a- 
half's  pay.  It  was  not  much,  of  course,  only  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  The 
purser  referred  me  to  the  main  office  on  Market  Street.  I  went  there, 
and  the  cashier  said, '  You  can  go  down  and  get  your  time-check.'  I  went 
to  the  time-steward,  Mr.  J.  Council,  and  he  said  he  would  not  give  any  of 
the  men  that  left  the  ship  their  time  unless  he  was  compelled  to  do  so  by 
law." 

Q.  What  reason  did  he  give  for  doing  that  ? 

A.  Because  we  quit  at  one  o'clock  on  the  day  of  sailing. 

Q.  Was  there  anything  in  the  Articles  calling  for  a  forfeiture  of  wages 
in  case  you  left  ? 

A.  No.  We  merely  sign  an  agreement  that  we  cannot  claim  more  than 
twenty-five  dollars  a  month.  If  a  man  works  eight  days  and  a  half,  he 
gets  paid  for  eight  days  only.  If  he  calls  and  complains  to  the  Company, 
he  is  told,  "  If  you  don't  like  it,  you  can  leave." 

From  the  testimony  of  John  Victor  Peterson : 

Q.  Tell  us  how  you  were  shipped. 

A.  I  went  into  a  boarding-house,  McGaffany's,  on  Clark  Street,  a  little 
street  near  Jackson  and  Pacific,  to  get  a  ship.  McGaffany  got  me  a  ship. 

Q.  Did  you  pay  him  ? 

A.  Yes;  I  paid  him  some  wages  in  advance.  I  got  sixty  dollars  ad 
vance  from  the  ship,  and  McGaffany  got  forty-seven  dollars  out  of  that, 


211 

Q.  How  long  had  you  been  in  his  boarding-house  ? 

A.  Two  days,  and  shipped  the  third  day.  I  got  two  pair  of  overalls, 
two  shirts— one  of  cotton  and  one  of  flannel — one  pair  of  oil-skin  pants, 
one  pair  of  boots,  four  pair  of  cotton  stockings,  and  four  pounds  of  to 
bacco. 

Q.  How  much  do  you  think  the  clothes  you  got  were  worth  ? 

A.  About  ten  dollars.  The  board  was  not  worth  more  than  three 
dollars. 

Q.  How  much  was  the  tobacco  worth  ? 

A.  Three  dollars. 

Q.  How  much  did  the  boarding-house  master  get  that  he  was  not  en 
titled  to  ? 

A.  Fully  twenty-five  dollars.  He  said  the  clothes  were  worth  that.  I 
didn't  want  to  take  them. 

Q.  Why,  then,  did  you  take  them  ? 

A.  I  said,  "I  don't  want  anything."  He  said,  "I'll  go  and  buy  them 
for  you." 

Q.  But  if  you  refused  to  take  them  ? 

A.  Then  I  would  have  lost  my  job. 

From  the  testimony  of  James  Jackson  : 

Q.  What  is  the  manner  of  shipping  men  ? 

A.  My  experience  is,  that  unless  a  man  stops  at  a  boarding-house  he 
cannot  get  a  ship. 

Q.  If  you  applied  direct  to  a  captain,  what  would  he  say  ? 

A.  His  first  question  would  be,  "  Where  do  you  stop  ?" 

Q.  Why  is  it  captains  take  men  only  from  a  boarding-house  ? 

A.  I  think  because  they  get  a  commission.  I  shipped  here  on  a  vessel 
called  The  Tacoma,  of  Bath,  Maine.  I  went  down  to  Mr.  Roeben,  and 
asked  him  if  he  had  a  chance.  He  said  he  could  put  me  on.  I  had  been 
around  shore  for  some  time,  but  couldn't  get  a  chance,  although  they 
wanted  men  all  the  time  ;  but  they  didn't  want  me  because  I  wasn't  stop 
ping  at  the  right  house.  Mr.  Roeben  told  me  I  had  to  pay  two  dollars 
and  a  half ;  if  I  didn't  pay,  I  couldn't  go. 

Q.  Have  you  ever  shipped  direct  without  the  intervention  of  any  board 
ing-house  master  ? 

A.  No ;  I  do  not  think  it  could  be  done  except  in  very  small  vessels. 

From  the  testimony  of  John  Lafferty : 

Q.  How  are  sailors  shipped  ? 

A.  Well,  going  to  a  boarding-house.  When  you  go  there,  if  you've  got 
five  or  ten  dollars  in  your  pocket,  the  master  will  keep  you  there.  If  you 


212  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

have  no  money,  he  will  trust  you  for  ten  or  twenty  dollars  in  his  house  for 
board  and  drink  until  he  can  get  a  vessel  and  ship  you.  When  you  go 
to  a  boarding-house  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  have  money,  the  boarding- 
house  master  is  in  no  hurry  to  let  you  go.  He  will  keep  you  until  you 
have  spent  it  all  and  run  up  a  bill,  and  then  let  you  ship.  The  vessels 
notify  the  boarding-house  master  that  they  want  so  many  men.  The  mas 
ter  pays  the  captain  so  much  money  for  the  privilege  of  shipping  those 
men,  and  makes  the  men  take  their  clothes  and  outfit  from  him.  The 
captain  can  ship  no  man  except  from  that  master. 

From  the  testimony  of  Anders  Fureseth : 

"In  the  seven  years  I  have  been  here,  I  stayed  four  years  at  a 
boarding-house.  In  that  time  I  had  no  trouble  in  getting  a  berth.  But 
since  I  left  my  boarding-house,  it  has  been  next  to  impossible  to  get  a 
chance.  In  1885  I  walked  this  beach  six  weeks.  I  turned  out  at  half- 
past  five,  and  walked  from  the  sea-wall  out  to  Fourth  Street  looking  for  a 
ship.  Now,  the  answer  I  always  got  was  either  '  It  is  too  early,'  or,  '  It  is 
too  late ' — this  as  soon  as  I  told  where  I  was  stopping.  When  I  said  I 
was  living  private,  they  would  say,  '  Well,  Clausen  gets  men  for  me,'  or 
Curtin,  or  any  other  boarding-house  master.  Sometimes  it  was  a  clothier; 
anyhow,  it  was  always  somebody  else  than  the  captain.  One  day  I  saw  a 
captain  who  knew  me.  He  said,  '  I  would  like  to  have  you,  but  you  had 
better  see  Kane.' " 

Q.  Who  was  Kane  ? 

A.  A  boarding-house  master. 

Q.  What  are  the  usual  charges  made  by  a  boarding-house  master  ? 

A.  It  is  five  dollars  for  taking  a  sailor  ashore,  five  dollars  a  week  for 
board  whether  you  stay  the  full  week  or  not,  five  dollars  for  getting  the 
sailor  a  ship,  and  five  dollars  for  cashing  notes,  advance-money  orders, 
etc.  By  the  time  I  have  been  in  his  house  three  days,  I  have  some  tobac 
co,  a  tin  plate,  a  pot,  a  straw  bed,  and  some  worthless  clothing,  and  my 
fifty  or  sixty  dollars  advance-money  is  gone.  One  boarding-house  master 
goes  to  a  captain,  and  says,  "  Here  is  fifty  dollars,  if  you  let  me  ship  your 
men."  Another  boarding-house  master  offers  sixty,  another  perhaps 
eighty.  The  highest  bidder,  of  course,  gets  the  chance  to  ship. 

Q.  Is  that  paid  to  the  captain  ? 

A.  Yes,  to  the  captain.  I  know  a  hundred  captains  who  take  money 
in  this  way. 

Q.  How  does  the  boarding-house  master  get  his  money  back  ? 

A.  Say  a  vessel  carries  fourteen  sailors.  All  of  them  fourteen  sailors 
have  been  in  the  boarding-house  master's  house  one  week,  two  weeks, 
three  weeks,  maybe  a  month  or  two  months.  All  of  them  sailors  has 


213 

some  board-bill  to  pay.  Some  has  drinks  with  their  mates,  and  they  are 
put  down  for  four  when  they  had  one.  Another  night  they  get  drunk ; 
they  borrow  one  dollar  cash ;  it  is  put  down  five  dollars.  Count  that  up. 
There  will  soon  be  the  sixty  or  eighty  dollars  the  master  pays  the  captain 
for  the  privilege  of  shipping  his  men.  A  few  years  ago  I  entered  in  a  book 
every  item  I  got,  just  to  see  what  the  boarding-house  master  would  try  to 
do.  My  account  was  two  dolrars  and  a  half,  and  he  wanted  to  make  it 
out  twenty-two  dollars  and  a  half. 

Mr.  Y.  Hoffmeyer,  Chairman  of  the  Advisory  Committee,  in 
summing  up  the  case  of  the  Pacific  Coast  seamen,  said : 

"The  bill  for  his — the  sailor's — stay  in  the  boarding-house,  or  for  the 
miserable  rags  he  has  got,  follows  him  everywhere,  and  is  always  large 
enough  to  cover  his  earnings  from  the  trip  for  which  he  has  signed.  In 
this  way  the  large  majority  of  sailors  on  this  coast. are  virtually  slaves  of 
the  boarding-house  masters,  sent  out  to  make  money  for  them,  and  obliged 
to  give  up  their  earnings  on  account  of  the  combination  which  exists  be 
tween  the  captains,  owners,  clothing  merchants,  and  boarding-house  mas 
ters.  All  the  clothiers  testify  that  they  have  agreements  with  the  captains 
to  supply  them  with  men.  Why  should  the  captains  go  to  the  clothiers  ? 
It  is  clear  there  must  be  some  inducement,  and  that  can  be  none  other 
than  a  consideration  of  money  or  goods.  The  evidence  shows  that  the 
goods  sold  to  seamen  are  charged  at  double  or  triple  rates.  John  Munroe 
testifies  directly,  and  bills  produced  have  proven,  that  promissory  notes 
are  accepted,  and  that,  in  addition  to  the  profits  on  the  goods,  usurious 
interest  is  charged  for  cashing  the  notes.  We  have  further  seen  that  the 
sailor  is  charged  for  the  chance  of  shipping.  The  evidence  shows  that 
some  captains  pay  off  the  men  in  some  store.  Why  should  this  be  so, 
were  the  captains  not  anxious  to  exercise  a  pressure  on  the  men  to  pay 
the  usurious  charges  of  the  merchants  ? 

"It  matters  not  where  Jack  goes,  he  is  robbed  everywhere.  It  is  his 
money  which  makes  the  boarding-house  and  the  clothing  business  so  prof 
itable,  that  in  spite  of  a  fabulous  amount  of  bad  bills,  a  large  number  are 
prospering  in  it  and  getting  rich.  It  would  be  impossible  to  get  all  this 
out  of  Jack  were  he  not  kept  in  a  position  where  he  cannot  defend  him 
self.  The  sailors  demand  from  the  National  Legislature  an  act  which 
shall  cover  the  following  points  : 

"  A  law  to  prevent  the  giving  of  any  advance-money. 

"A  law  to  make  it  possible  for  the  sailor  to  ship  himself,  without  the 
intervention  of  any  boarding-house  master  or  other  person,  by  forbidding 
any  one  to  appear  with  him  before  the  shipping  commissioner  when  he  is 
engaged  by  the  captain  and  signs  the  Articles. 


214  THE   TRAMP   AT    HOME. 

"A  law  which  makes  it  possible  for  the  sailor  to  draw  the  full  amount 
of  wages  due  him  in  any  port  of  discharge. 

"  A  law  providing  that  all  cases  for  the  recovery  of  seamen's  wages  in 
the  United  States  courts  must  be  given  preference  over  all  other  cases, 
whether  on  trial  or  not,  and  be  tried  and  disposed  of  within  forty-eight 
hours  subsequent  to  the  filing  of  the  libel,  provided  the  seaman  shows 
reasonable  diligence  in  prosecuting  the  same. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Commissioner,  we  have  presented  our  case  for  your  con 
sideration.  In  closing,  permit  me,  in  the  name  of  our  organization,  to 
thank  you  for  the  hearty  co-operation  which  you  have  given  us  through 
out  the  whole  investigation,  and  to  express  the  hope  that  the  efforts  of 
the  National  and  State  Labor  Bureaus  will  be  made  to  assist  the  struggles 
of  a  craft  on  whose  exertions  the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  thereby  the 
happiness  of  all  human  beings,  mainly  depends. 
"  With  great  respect, 

"V.  HOFFMEYER, 

"  Chairman  Advisory  Committee  Coast  Seamen's  Union." 

To  supplement  this  dry  testimony,  I  will  give  in  the  next 
chapter  the  story  of  an  educated  man,  who,  I  believe,  is  thor 
oughly  trustworthy.  I  met  this  gentleman,  now  a  prosperous 
lawyer,  on  the  island  of  Maui,  in  the  Pacific  Ocean.  His  ex 
perience  is  only  the  counterpart  of  that  of  many  of  the  tars 
who  ship  from  San  Francisco  after  enjoying  the  hospitality  of 
boarding-house  masters. 


A  SAILOR'S  STORY.  215 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


CRUEL  TREATMENT  AFLOAT  AND  ASHORE. — BEATEN  WITH  A  BELAY 
ING  -  PIN  AND  LOCKED  IN  THE  DARK  -  HOLE.  —  HOW  MEN  ARE 
SHIPPED. 

"  WHEN  I  left  college,"  said  the  lawyer  at  Maui,  "  I  found 
myself  dead  broke — not  a  dime  in  my  pocket.  I  had  ambition 
and  thought  of  law.  An  uncle  of  mine  gave  me  enough  money 
to  go  West,  thinking  I  could  pick  up  a  living  while  waiting  for 
clients.  I  found  picking  up  a  living  in  'Frisco  wasn't  an  easy 
job.  No  clients  rushed  in  on  me,  and  it  was  not  long  before  I 
became  desperate,  and  went  down  to  the  water,  not  to  drown 
myself,  but  to  ship  as  a  sailor.  I  had  heard  that  sailors  got 
thirty  or  forty  dollars  a  month — big  money  to  a  hungry  man 
out  of  work !  Going  aboard  the  first  ship  I  saw,  I  asked  if 
men  were  wanted. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  the  captain,  '  the  right  sort  of  men.  Any  ex 
perience  ?' 

"  *  No,  but  I  can  get  experience.' 

"  *  What's  your  boarding-house  ?' 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  this  was  an  irrelevant  question ;  but 
as  the  captain  looked  sane,  I  politely  informed  him  that  I 
lodged  on  Jones  Street  and  got  my  meals  where  I  could.  The 
captain  glanced  at  me  carelessly,  whistled  softly,  and  said  that 
he  didn't  believe  I  would  do. 

"  I  went  to  another  ship,  and,  to  my  astonishment,  the  sec 
ond  captain  asked  me  about  my  boarding-house.  When  I 
mentioned  Jones  Street,  he  also  suddenly  remembered  that  he 
did  not  need  anybody  just  then. 

"  Going  to  a  third  ship,  the  same  thing  happened.    I  couldn't 


216  THE   TKAMP    AT   HOME. 

understand  it.  Finally,  when  the  fourth  captain  asked  about 
my  boarding-house,  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  ask  ques 
tions. 

" '  Please  tell  me  what  my  boarding-house  has  to  do  with 
this  business  ?' 

"  '  If  you  ain't  at  the  right  boarding-house  I  don't  want  you, 
that's  all/  said  the  morose  old  tar,  turning  on  his  heel. 

"An  old  sailor  who  overheard  this  followed  me  a  few  steps. 
Rolling  his  quid  to  one  corner  of  his  cheek,  he  said,  '  I  say, 
mate,  you  ain't  onto  this  'ere  boardin'-house  racket,  air  ye  ?' 

"  I  confessed  that  I  was  not.  '  Perhaps  they  do  not  need 
any  men/  I  said. 

"'No,  it  ain't  that/  said  the  old  tar,  grinning;  'they're 
payin'  big  blood-money,  an'  a-findin'  it  hard  to  git  'em  at  that.' 

"  '  Blood-money  !    What's  that  ?' 

" '  You  go  to  Sheeny  Isaacs/  said  the  old  fellow ;  '  he'll  set 
you  up,  an'  you'll  catch  onto  blood-money  soon  enough.  You 
needn't  look  for  a  berth  long  as  you  board  on  Jones  Street.' 

"This  seemed  odd,  but  I  was  determined  to  get  through. 
Sheeny  Isaacs's  establishment  was  a  rickety  two-story  old  wood 
en  house,  with  windows  looking  out  on  a  narrow  alley.  The 
first  floor  was  used  as  a  saloon.  Behind  the  bar  stood  a  stout 
man  with  a  bulby,  crooked  nose  and  a  mean-looking  eye.  I 
stated  my  business  to  this  man. 

"  '  Ever  been  to  sea?' 

"'No,  but  I  think— ' 

" '  Oh,  dot's  all  right/  interrupted  the  crooked-nosed  man ; 
*  I  get  you  a  place.  Where  your  tings  ?' 

"  I  was  almost  afraid  to  say  Jones  Street,  lest  it  might  prove 
a  stumbling-block  here,  as  well  as  heretofore.  But  Mr.  Isaacs 
was  not  unpleasantly  affected,  as  the  captains  had  been,  by  the 
name.  He  went  to  the  door,  and  calling  '  Reuben !.'  a  shabby- 
looking  youth,  with  a  flat,  freckled  face  and  sandy  hair,  put  in 
an  appearance,  and  was  told  to  go  and  bring  my  belongings 
from  Jones  Street.  They  came,  and  I  was  installed  in  a  room 
in  which  were  four  cots.  I  counted  myself  fortunate  that  only 


A  SAILOR'S  STORY.  217 

two  of  these  were  occupied.  The  worst  thing  about  poverty  is 
its  dirt ;  if  poor  places  could  only  be  kept  clean,  one  wouldn't 
so  much  mind.  We  might  get  on  very  well  with  crusts  and 
plain  mush,  but  when  it  comes  to  rooming  with  unwashed  men 
and  sleeping  in  dirty  beds,  one's  very  soul  revolts.  My  break 
fast  was  dirty  water  for  coffee,  fried  steak,  and  gutta-percha 
bread.  A  day  passed — two  days,  three  days — and  still  I  heard 
nothing  of  my  berth.  I  spoke  to  Sheeny  Isaacs,  reminding 
him  of  my  necessities.  He  eyed  me  with  a  curious  smile,  and 
asked  me  if  I  thought  he  was  running  his  house  for  charity. 

'"Certainly  not;  that  is  why  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  get  work. 
I  don't  like  to  run  up  a  board  bill  when  I  can't  pay.' 

" '  Oh,  dot's  all  right,'  said  Mr.  Isaacs,  with  a  grin ;  '  I  gets 
my  money  all  right.  Take  a  drink?'  laying  his  hand  on  a 
bottle. 

"'No,  I  don't  drink.' 

"'Well,'  he  said,  pouring  out  two  glasses  of  whiskey,  'this 
is  a  goot  time  to  learn.' 

"  He  swallowed  the  contents  of  one  himself,  and  as  I  wouldn't 
take  the  other,  he  poured  it  on  the  sawdust  on  the  floor. 

"  '  Dot's  all  right,'  he  said.    '  Drink  or  no  drink,  all  de  same.' 

"Then  he  opened  his  account-book  and  made  a  charge.  I 
•wondered  if  he  charged  himself  with  his  own  drinks,  but  after 
wards  understood  the  case  better.  Another  and  another  day 
passed,  and  still  no  berth.  I  had  another  talk  with  Isaacs. 
He  was  very  irritable ;  his  oily  smoothness  was  gone.  A  vil- 
lanous  gleam  was  in  his  eye. 

"'You're  a  devilish  fool!'  he  grumbled.  'You  tink  I  start 
a  ship  off  just  to  accommodate  you?' 

"  'Then  I  must  try  something  else.     I  can  wait  no  longer.' 

"  '  You  can't  go  until  you  pay  dot  bill.' 

"'How  much  is  it?' 

"  '  Fifty  dollars  and  forty  cents,'  was  the  reply.    Had  he  said 

fifty  thousand  dollars  I  would  not  have  been  more  surprised. 

I  could  have  boarded  at  the  Palace  Hotel  for  less  money.     I 

demanded  tho  items.    Without  hesitation  he  produced  them — 

10 


218  TUE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

board  one  week,  $5;  drinks,  $7.50;  two  pairs  of  boots,  $12; 
oil-skin  coat,  $6.  Underclothing,  pipes,  tobacco,  and  a  variety 
of  other  articles  brought  the  amount  up  to  the  sum  he  had 
mentioned — $50.40. 

''I  have  had  none  of  these  things/  I  said,  'except  the 
board.' 

"Dot's  all  right.  You  tell  me  you  want  to  ship;  I  buys 
dem  dings  for  you.  Dot's  de  way  beezness  goes  here.' 

"It's  the  way  robbery  goes,  and  you  know  it,  you  old 
scoundrel !'  I  cried,  losing  my  temper.  *  I'll  see  you  in  Halifax 
before  I  pay  it.' 

"  The  old  villain  called  Reuben.  From  the  door  behind  the 
bar  Reuben  came.  He  seemed  to  understand  what  was  wanted. 
It  was  late  at  night;  there  was  no  one  in  the  saloon.  Reuben's 
first  move  was  to  lock  the  front  door. 

"  '  What's  that  for?'  I  demanded. 

"  'You  don't  go  until  I  gets  mine  money.' 

"  '  You  mean  to  keep  me  prisoner?' 

"  '  I  means  to  get  mine  money,'  he  said,  doggedly. 

"The  three  of  us  stood  still  a  minute.  I  did  some  mighty 
fast  thinking  in  that  minute.  I  had  to  deal  with  a  brute  who 
would  scruple  at  nothing.  Reuben  was  standing  with  his  back 
against  the  locked  door ;  the  other  scoundrel  stood  behind  the 
bar.  To  rush  at  the  door,  hurl  Reuben  to  one  side  and  out, 
seemed  my  only  chance.  I  made  the  venture,  leaped  forward, 
seized  Reuben,  hurled  him  aside,  .and  that  was  the  last  I  knew 
for  some  time.  When  I  came  to  my  senses  it  was  pitch-dark. 
I  thought  it  was  dead  of  night,  and  lay  still  until  morning 
should  dawn.  My  head  was  swollen  and  sore,  and  matted  with/ 
a  sticky  substance  which  I  readily  surmised  was  blood  when  I 
recalled  the  scene  in  the  bar-room.  Groping  about  the  walls 
and  floor,  I  found  that  I  was  in  a  cellar,  with  a  rough  board  floor 
and  brick  walls;  the  door  was  heavy,  and  studded  with  nails. 
A  dead  stillness  pervaded  the  darkness.  I  began  to  think  that 
the  villains  intended  to  starve  me.  While  lying  on  the  floor, 
thinking  over  my  unlucky  condition,  the  door  opened. 


219 

"'Dinner!'  called  a  husky  voice,  which  I  took  to  be  that  of 
the  red-headed  Reuben. 

"  Springing  up,  I  made  a  rush  for  the  door,  but  it  was  closed 
and  locked  before  I  was  half  way.  I  greedily  devoured  the 
food  and  drank  the  water,  and  after  that  slept  soundly.  Twice 
every  day  after  that  came-the  cries,  *  Breakfast,'  and  'Dinner.' 
No  matter  how  watchful  I  was,  I  did  not  succeed  in  catching 
my  jailer.  On  the  third  day,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  the  door 
was  opened  a  foot  or  so,  and  Isaacs,  for  this  time  it  was  he, 
proposed  a  parley. 

"  '  Pay  dot  bill,  and  I  let  you  out,'  he  said. 

"  *  I  haven't  got  it ;  I  couldn't  pay  it  to  save  my  life.' 

"  '  You  no  got  money  ?'  said  Isaacs,  softly. 

"  '  Search  me  ;  take  everything  I  have.' 

"  '  Veil,  I  won't  be  hard  on  you,'  he  replied,  and  went  on  to 
say  that  the  bark  Viela  was  to  sail  for  Melbourne  on  Monday, 
and  that  if  I  would  sign  an  advance-money  order  on  the  cap 
tain,  he  would  open  the  door  on  Monday  morning,  and  let  me 
out.  I  signed  the  paper. 

"'Now,'  said  Isaacs, 'since  you've  sobered  up  and  know 
what  you're  about,  I'll  send  your  trunk  down  to  the  Viela  and 
to-morrow  you'll  go  before  the  commissioner  and  sign  the  Arti 
cles,  and  go  aboard.  You've  been  on  a  big  drunk,  mine  front, 
and  just  got  your  legs  on  again.' 

"  All  this  was  simply  stunning.  I  resolved  to  say  nothing 
until  I  was  before  the  commissioner,  and  then  I  would  de 
nounce  and  expose  this  man's  villany,  and  prosecute  him  to  the 
extent  of  the  law.  Next  day  he  and  Reuben  and  another  fel 
low  whom  I  had  seen  quite  frequently  loafing  about  the  bar 
went  with  me  to  the  commissioner's.  A  gang  of  men  were 
there  before  us.  It  took  some  time  for  them  to  get  through, 
awkward  as  they  were  in  the  use  of  the  pen,  At  last  it  came 
to  my  turn. 

"  '  Sign  here,'  said  the  commissioner. 

"  I  hesitated  a  moment.  '  What's  the  matter  ?'  asked  the 
commissioner,  impatiently. 


220  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"'Mr.  Commissioner,  I  denounce  that  man  as  a  robber  and 
a  would-be  murderer.' 

"The  commissioner  looked  annoyed,  as  well  as  impatient. 
The  half-dozen  other  persons  in  the  room  only  stared  at  me. 
As  to  the  villains  who  had  come  with  me,  they  all  three  grinned 
as  if  at  a  good  joke. 

"'That  man,'  I  said,  trembling  a  little — for  exposure  in 
Isaacs's  cellar  had  somewhat  weakened  me — '  that  man  knocked 
me  down,  robbed  me,  and  kept  me  locked  in  a  blackhole.' 

"  *  What  do  you  say  to  this  ?'  the  commissioner  asked. 

"  Sheeny  Isaacs  grinned. 

" '  The  fellow's  just  out  of  a  three  days'  drunk,'  he  said. 
'  These  men  can  testify  that  he  owes  me  a  board  and  drink  bill, 
and  wants  to  dodge  paying.  Look  at  this,'  showing  the  ad 
vance-money  order  I  had  been  forced  to  sign. 

" '  Is  this  your  signature  ?'  asked  the  commissioner,  looking 
at  the  order. 

" '  I  was  forced — he  had  me  locked  in  a  cellar.  His  bill 
against  me  is  a  fraud  and  a  swindle.  I  only  owed  him  for 
board — ' 

"  '  He  ain't  sobered  up  yet,'  said  Isaacs,  gloating  over  the 
confusion  I  could  not  help  feeling. 

"'Isaacs,'  said  the  commissioner,  'you  mustn't  bring  your 
men  here  drunk  again.  I've  no  time  for  such  rows.' 

" '  He's  the  worst  case  I've  had  in  ten  years,'  replied  the 
boarding-house  master.  '  I  don't  think  he  can  keep  sober  as 
long  as  he's  ashore.' 

"  '  Will  you  sign  or  not  ?'  said  the  commissioner.  '  I  can't 
wait  any  longer.' 

" '  Set  your  fist  down  and  sail  with  me,'  said  a  voice  I  rec 
ognized  as  that  of  the  old  tar. 

"  Up  to  that  instant  I  had  determined  to  fight  it  out ;  then  I 
thought  that  the  best  thing  I  could  do  under  the  circumstances 
was  to  sign,  and  get  out  of  the  way.  The  rascals  had  me. 
There  were  no  witnesses  to  my  mistreatment.  I  had  no  money. 
I  signed,  and  went  out  with  the  old  tar  into  an  anteroom, 


A    SAILORS    STORY.  221 

where  there  were  ten  or  a  dozen  rough-looking  men.  A  stout, 
weather-beaten  fellow  came  in. 

"  *  All  here  ?'  he  said,  gruffly.     '  Get  aboard,  then.' 

"  We  were  hustled  into  a  wagon  and  driven  down  to  the 
dock,  where  a  small  boat  took  us  aboard  the  Viela. 

"  The  *  A.  B.  S.'  (able-bodied  seamen)  were  separated  from 
those  who  shipped  as  'O.  S.'  (ordinary  seamen).  These  latter 
are  questioned  by  the  captain.  'Ever  been  to  sea?'  If  the 
answer  is  yes,  the  next  query  is, '  Get  sea-sick?'  The  'yes'  or 
the  '  no '  did  not  seem  to  make  any  difference.  We  were  all 
turned  over  to  the  mate,  and  expected  to  obey  orders  which 
only  an  old  sailor  could  possibly  understand.  Some  were  set 
to  holy-stoning  the  deck,  others  to  greasing  spars  and  splicing 
ropes. 

"  *  And  you  fellows,'  said  the  mate  to  me  and  two  others 
who  were  together,  '  lay  aloft  and  bend  the  top-sail.' 

"  I  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  what  was  meant  by  bending  a 
sail,  and  hesitated  what  to  do. 

"  '  Why  don't  you  lay  aloft  and  bend  that  sail  ?'  roared  the 
mate.  *  Lay  aloft  with  that  landlubber  and  make  him  bend 
the  top-s'l.' 

"'Come  along,  mate;  it'll  be  the  best  for  you,'  whispered 
one  of  the  sailors ;  and  I  followed  him  as  well  as  I  could  up  the 
rigging  to  the  top-sail.  The  Viela  was  now  being  towed  out  to 
sea,  and  the  foot-rope  on  which  we  were  standing  swayed  so 
that  I  expected  every  moment  to  be  dashed  to  the  deck,  nine 
ty  feet  below.  I  did  little  more  than  cling  to  the  yard-arm 
while  the  two  sailors  stretched  and  fastened  the  sail. 

" '  It's  all  in  knowing  how,'  said  Jack.  I  dare  say  he  saw 
death  in  my  face,  for  I  was  deathly  sick;  the  sea  rolled  horri 
bly.  I  groaned,  my  fingers  relaxed  their  hold  ;  I  would  have 
fallen  and  ended  all,  had  not  the  strong  arms  of  the  old  sailor 
caught  me  and  borne  me  safely  to  the  deck.  The  first  thing  I 
heard  was  the  mate  demanding,  *  What  in  thunder  I  was  doing 
on  deck?' 

'"The  landlubber's  sea-sick,'  said  the  old  tar, 


222  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"  *  Sick  !'  giving  me  a  kick. 

"Somehow,  the  sudden  and  fierce  resentment  which  this  indig 
nity  stirred  in  me  dispelled  my  sea-sickness.  Rage  gave  strength 
for  the  minute.  I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  leaped  on  the  mate 
like  a  tiger.  I  was  not  in  my  senses,  or  I  would  have  known 
that  such  an  act  would  only  result  in  my  being  subjected  to 
worse  indignities.  I  was  knocked  down  with  a  belaying-pin. 

" '  Trice  the  cutthroat  up !'  roared  the  mate.  Two  great 
brawny  men  seized  me.  I  was  powerless  in  their  grasp.  My 
arms  were  stretched  above  my  head,  and  fastened  to  the  mast 
by  a  cord  around  my  thumbs.  First  I  rested  the  weight  of 
my  body  on  my  toes.  A  minute  of  that  made  me  feel  as  if 
I  weighed  a  ton  ;  then  I  hung  for  a  moment  by  my  thumbs,  and 
this  was  even  worse.  In  ten  minutes,  as  I  afterwards  learned, 
I  fainted  from  the  intense  torture,  and  hung,  limp  and  sense 
less,  sustained  by  the  cord  around  my  thumbs. 

"  *  Baptize  him  !'  ordered  the  mate,  who  stood  by  looking  on. 
A  bucket  of  water  brought  me  back  to  life  and  agony.  This 
was  repeated  several  times,  each  faint  lasting  longer  and  longer, 
until  it  took  four  buckets  to  bring  me  to.  When  this  point 
was  reached,  the  mate  ordered  me  cut  down  and  carried  to  my 
bunk  in  the  forecastle.  When  I  came  to  my  senses,  I  heard 
the  sailors  talking  in  a  low  voice. 

"  '  He'll  make  a  good  sailor,'  said  one.     *  He's  got  the  grit.' 

"  *  But  didn't  he  maul  the  mate,  though  !'  said  another.  'He 
might  'a'  got  pistoled  as  well  as  not.' 

"  '  Wonder  the  mate  didn't  shoot.  Seen  him  $o  it  for  less,' 
said  another. 

"*He  knowed  the  poor  boy  warn't  in  his  senses  for  sea 
sickness,'  said  a  voice  which  I  recognized  as  the  old  tar's.  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  him. 

"  *  How  are  you  now,  mate  ?'  he  asked,  in  a  friendly  way. 
'  You'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two.  Sailors  don't  knock  un 
der  for  trifles,  I  tell  you.' 

"  I  was  so  stiff  and  sore  that  I  could  hardly  move.  My  feet 
and  hands  pained  dreadfully.  The  old  sailor,  when  it  was  quite 


223 

dark,  brought  me  a  bucket  of  salt-water  to  bathe  them  in,  which 
gave  me  some  relief.  On  the  third  day  the  mate  came  in. 

"  *  Come  to  your  senses  ?'  he  said,  sharply. 

"  I  made  no  reply. 

"  *  You've  laid  up  long  enough.  Get  up  ;  look  about  spry. 
You  ain't  a  passenger  !' 

"  I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  could  get  up  and  look  about  spry  ;  but 
when,  shortly  after,  the  stern  command  came,  'All  hands  aft! 
set  the  main-s'l !'  I  was  forced  to  get  up  and  work  with  the 
others.  I  did  my  utmost  to  '  look  spry '  and  jump  about,  as  if 
expecting  the  mate's  lash  every  minute.  The  way  in  which  sail 
ors  move  under  the  sharp  eyes  of  stern  officers  always  seemed 
to  me  to  come  of  fear  of  personal  punishment.  I  felt  that  the 
mate  was  lying  in  wait  to  pounce  on  me.  This  feeling  kept  me 
iu  constant  anxiety  when  in  his  presence.  I  had  come  to  fully 
realize  my  utter  helplessness  to  resist  indignities,  however  cru 
el.  The  men  were  ready  to  obey  all  orders,  even  to  murdering, 
or  l  executing,'  mutineers,  as  the  captains  prefer  to  call  it.  I 
thought  of  all  this,  and  made  up  my  mind  to  endure  all,  and 
give  the  mate  no  chance  to  punish  again." 


224  THE    TRAMP   AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
A  SAILOR'S  STOEY — continued. 

PICKLING  A  CHINAMAN.  — THE  CREW  MUTINY.— ESCAPE  TO  A  TROP 
ICAL  ISLAND. — WORK  SECURED  ON  A  SUGAR  PLANTATION.  —  THE 
SAILOR  BECOMES  A  LAWYER  AND  WINS  A  WIFE. 

"AN  incident  tbat  made  me  forget  my  resolution  occurred 
on  the  thirteenth  day  out.  Ki  Song  Fat,  the  Chinese  cook,  in 
an  unlucky  moment  was  struck  by  the  swinging  boom  and 
killed.  A  Christian  seaman,  when  dead,  is  cast  into  the  sea 
with  scant  ceremony ;  but  the  bones  of  a  Celestial  pagan  are 
too  sacred  to  be  consigned  to  the  deep — they  must  be  returned 
to  Celestial  soil.  A  ship's  captain  who  respects  this  sacredness 
and  brings  into  port  the  remains  of  a  Chinaman  receives  from 
the  Chinese  companies  a  considerable  bounty.  So,  when  Ki 
Song  Fat  died,  the  captain  ordered  Chips  (the  carpenter)  to 
preserve  him.  Chips' s  ideas  about  embalming  were  crude.  He 
got  a  barrel  of  salt-water,  and  made  a  strong  pickle  with  lime, 
assafoetida,  and  I  don't  know  what  not.  Then  poor  Ki  Song 
Fat  was  doubled  up  and  jammed  into  the  barrel.  Press  as  hard 
as  he  could,  Chips  could  not  get  the  head  clear  in,  and  at  last 
he  had  to  cut  a  square  hole  in  the  top  and  nail  on  a  piece  of 
tin,  curving  it  so  as  to  let  the  skull  stick  up  two  or  three  inch 
es  above  the  level  of  the  barrel-top,  making,  as  it  were,  a  small 
round  tin  dome. 

"  The  captain  ordered  the  cask  placed  in  the  forecastle.  The 
sailors  sullenly  obeyed.  Sailors  are  always  superstitious.  They 
fear  and  hate  to  have  a  corpse  on  board,  but  they  feared  the 
captain  more,  and  put  up  with  the  dead  pagan  until  the  pickle 
began  to  leak  out  of  the  cask  and  drip  down  on  the  men  in 
their  bunks.  This  was  more  than  they  could  stand.  They  got 


225 

together  and  held  a  secret  conference,  and  decided  that  it  was 
of  no  use  to  remonstrate  with  the  captain  ;  he  was  eager  to  get 
the  bounty  on  the  Chinese  bones.  They  resolved  to  act  for 
themselves.  Four  men  were  elected  to  do  the  job,  and  the  oth 
ers  agreed  to  stand  by  them.  The  old  tar  was  one  of  the  four. 
In  the  middle  watch  the  four  men  stole  softly  on  deck.  One 
had  a  pot  of  grease  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  greased  the 
pulley  so  that  it  would  not  squeak.  A  rope  was  made  fast 
around  the  cask ;  it  was  hoisted  slowly  from  the  deck,  above 
the  bulwarks,  and  then  shoved  out  from  the  ship  over  the 
water. 

"  4  Let  her  go  !'  whispered  Jack. 

"There  was  a  loud  splash,  and  Ki  Song  Fat  was  gone  for 
ever.  Unfortunately  the  mate,  who  was  always  turning  up  to 
see  what  the  men  were  about,  heard  the  splash,  and  ran  for 
ward,  shouting,  'What's  that?'  When  he  found  that  Ki  Song 
Fat,  cask  and  all,  was  in  the  sea,  he  told  the  captain,  who  be 
came  furious.  Early  next  day  all  hands  were  called  on  deck. 
The  captain  wanted  to  know  who  had  disobeyed  his  orders  and 
thrown  the  cask  overboard.  Not  a  sailor  spoke.  The  captain 
stormed,  and  swore  he'd  punish  every  man  if  the  criminals 
were  not  given  up.  The  men  remained  silent. 

"  '  Jack  Grady,  who  threw  that  Chinaman  over  ?'  the  captain 
then  demanded,  singling  out  the  old  sailor  who  had  so  often 
befriended  me. 

"Jack  said  it  wasn't  fair  to  force  a  seaman  to  blab  on  his 
mates.  That  wasn't  what  the  Articles  he  had  signed  said  he 
must  do. 

"  '  Then  by !'  swore  the  captain,  turning  purple  with 

rage,  *  I'll  make  you  sign  Articles  to  that  effect  before  I'm  done 
with  you  ;  see  if  I  don't.  I  give  you  five  minutes  to  obey  my 
orders  and  split  on  the  rascals.  I'll  show  you  who  is  captain 
of  this  ship !' 

"  He  took  out  his  watch  and  counted  the  minutes.  Jack 
turned  as  pale  as  a  weather-beaten  tar  could,  and  so  did  all  of 
us.  I  am  sure  that  I  did,  for  I  hardly  expected  the  poor  fellow 
10* 


TIIE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

to  hold  out  and  take  the  punishment  alone  for  what  we  all  had 
agreed  to  do.  Five  minutes  passed  in  breathless  silence ;  then, 
with  an  oath,  the  captain  ordered  the  first  mate  and  the  cook 
to  trice  him  up.  The  cook  was  not  in  the  scrape,  and  the  cap 
tain  thought  he  would  have  no  trouble  in  obeying  his  orders ; 
and  he  didn't.  Jack  made  no  resistance — great,  strong,  manly 
fellow  as  he  looked  to  be.  Such  is  the  habit  of  slavery.  There 
was  a  whispered  conference  between  the  captain  and  the  first 
mate.  From  the  glance  of  the  former's  eyes,  I  knew  they  were 
talking  of  me. 

'"Disobedience  to  orders  is  mutiny,'  said  the  captain,,  'and 
shall  be  punished  as  mutiny.  Fetch  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  1' 

"When  the  mate  brought  the  devilish  whip,  the  captain 
looked  at  me,  and  with  an  oath  ordered  me  to  lay  it  on  Jack's 
back.  I  was  struck  dumb  at  this  order.  To  be  whipped  is 
about  the  worst  indignity  a  man  can  endure;  the  next  worst  is 
to  have  to  put  this  indignity  on  a  fellow-creature,  especially  a 
fellow-creature  who  has  been  kind  to  you.  I  resolved  to  die 
before  I  would  lay  the  lash  on  Jack's  back.  The  poor  fellow 
looked  at  me.  I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  his  eyes. 
If  ever  eyes  spoke,  his  spoke  then  of  pity  for  me,  not  for 
himself.  Seeing  me  shake  and  turn  pale,  the  captain  thought 
I  was  too  frightened  to  obey  his  orders;  so  he  ripped  out 
more  oaths,  and  told  me  to  hurry  if  I  didn't  want  to  catch  it 
myself. 

"  '  Lay  on,  my  lad,'  said  Jack,  gently — '  lay  on  ;  it'll  soon  be 
over.' 

"  '  I'll  die  first !'  I  blurted  out,  bracing  myself  to  endure 
whatever  might  come. 

"  '  Clap  him  in  irons  !'  roared  the  captain,  *  and  feed  the 
lubber  on  hard -tack  and  bilge -water  till  he  comes  to  his 
senses  !' 

"  The  men  looked  at  one  another,  but  no  one  moved.  The 
captain  fairly  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

"  '  One  word,  captain,'  said  one  of  the  men.  '  We  are  all  in 
this.  None  of  us  wanted  that  pickled  Chinaman  above  us. 


A  SAJLOK'S  STORY — CONTINUED.  227 

The  brine  leaked  through  on  us  all  alike.  We  all  wanted  him 
overboard.  Shall  we  iron  our  mates  for  that  ?' 

"'You'll  iron  'em  for  anything  I  like!'  cried  the  captain, 
reaching  for  his  pistols. 

"One  who  lias  never  been  in  a  scrimmage  such  as  I  am  now 
describing  might  suppose  that  the  captain  was  taking  small 
chances.  The  crew  were  desperate;  they  were  a  unit;  yet,  op 
posed  to  the  captain,  they  were  powerless.  The  cook  and  the 
two  mates  were  with  the  captain.  The  four  stood  facing  the 
crew  with  drawn  pistols. 

"  '  Put  that  man  in  irons,'  repeated  the  captain. 

"  The  men  looked  down  the  pistol-barrels  that  stared  them 
in  the  face.  There  was  no  chance  to  resist. 

" '  We  have  to  do  it,  mate,'  they  muttered. 

"  I  quietly  permitted,  the  cook  and  two  of  the  men  to  put 
me  in  irons  and  take  me  down  into  the  hold.  Three  days'  con 
finement,  fed  on  hard-tack  and  cold  water,  was  pretty  rough, 
but  I  endured  it.  I  would  have  endured  it  months  rather  than 
lay  the  lash  on  Jack's  shoulders.  How  much  longer  I  might 
have  been  kept  in  the  hold  I  do  not  know.  Rough  weather 
came  on  ;  a  gale  blew  so  continuously  that  my  services  were 
needed  in  handling  the  bark — the  more  so  as  one  of  the  ablest 
seamen  we  had  was  laid  up  with  a  badly  sprained  ankle. 

"  The  cabin-boy,  Mark  Tillman,  told  me  that  the  captain  in 
tended  running  into  Kaola,  one  of  the  small  islands  in  the  mid- 
Pacific,  for  water.  The  life  on  the  ship  was  so  intolerable  that  I 
could  think  of  nothing,  dream  of  nothing,  but  escape.  Mark, 
!  the  cabin-boy,  and  I  were  of  one  way  of  feeling  on  the  matter, 
and  often  talked  it  over.  We  knew  that  Kaola  was  in  the  tropics 
— we  would  not  be  frozen  to  death.  But  was  it  inhabited  ? 
Would  we  find  food?  I  resolved  to  sound  Jack,  and  see 
whether  he  would  not  join  us  in  our  attempt  to  escape.  I 
thought  it  more  than  likely  that  Jack  would  be  ordered  ashore 
to  seek  for  water.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  was  unwilling  to 
venture,  and  tried  to  persuade  me  from  it.  He  said  that  even 
if  I  succeeded  I  would  lose  my  wages,  He  thought  that  money 


228  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

was  what  I  wanted.  Besides  that,  I  might  starve  to  death  on 
the  island  ;  and,  worse  than  all,  if  I  made  the  attempt  and  failed, 
the  captain  would  torture  me  every  hour  of  the  voyage.  The 
only  answer  to  this  was  that  he  was  already  torturing  me.  Jack 
pooh-poohed  the  idea  of  my  deserting  in  such  a  place,  and  said 
that  a  sailor's  life  was  never  made  better  by  desertion  ;  that  I 
would  soon  get  used  to  it ;  that  by  the  time  I  had  made  two 
or  three  voyages  I  wouldn't  mind  the  mate's  oaths  or  the  cap 
tain's  tantrums.  I  saw  that  poor  Jack  had  so  long  lived  the 
life  of  a  sailor-slave  that  he  had  come  to  think  that  there  was 
no  use  in  trying  to  do  better.  In  this  conversation  I  did  not  be 
tray  my  little  cabin-boy,  and  Jack  left  me  with  the  comfortable 
idea  that  as  he  would  not  go  with  me  I  would  give  up  the  plan. 
"  The  air  was  soft  and  balmy,  the  water  smooth  as  glass,  as 
the  Viela  glided  lazily  along  towards  the  green  mountains  and 
the  cliffs  that  rose  majestically  above  the  sea.  The  sides  of 
these  cliffs  were  soft  and  green,  except  where  some  water-fall, 
like  a  silver  ribbon,  trickled  gently  down  the  moss-covered  rock, 
losing  itself  in  the  vast  bosom  of  the  ocean  below.  At  first 
sight  there  seemed  to  be  no  harbor,  but  as  the  bark  drew  nearer, 
an  opening  in  the  rock  leading  into  a  ravine  which  extended  to 
the  top  of  a  mountain  became  visible.  Within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  this  narrow  valley  or  ravine  the  Viela  anchored,  and  the 
captain  gave  the  order  to  lower  the  long-boat.  A  cask  was  put  in 
it,  and  the  second  mate,  Jack,  and  Mark  Tillman  were  sent  ashore 
to  look  for  water.  I  had  a  word  with  Mark  before  he  started. 
It  was  agreed  between  us  that  he  was  to  escape  from  the  oth 
ers  and  hide  until  I  came.  I  knew  that  the  captain  did  not 
mean  to  set  sail  until  morning,  and  I  determined  to  slip  over 
board  and  swim  ashore  in  the  night.  I  watched  the  boat  start 
off  with  a  wildly  beating  heart.  A  heavy  surf  was  rolling,  and 
it  was  not  easy  to  land ;  so,  when  near  the  beach,  they  got  the 
boat  broadside  on  to  the  sea.  There  the  water  beat  over  her 
sides  upon  the  men  until,  a  heavy  swell  coming,  the  mate,  by  a 
dexterous  turn  of  the  rudder,  headed  her  for  the  shore  and  rode 
in  on  top  of  the  surf,  landing  high  up  on  the  beach.  It  was  quite 


229 

dark  before  we  heard  the  returning  boat.  I  was  feverish  with 
excitement,  and  stood  by  eagerly  listening. 

" '  The  boy  Mark  is  lost,'  the  mate  said  to  the  captain. 

"  '  What  do  you  mean  ?'  asked  the  captain,  harshly. 

"  '  He  started  off  with  others  to  find  water,  and  never  turned 
up  again.  We  waited  for  him  an  hour,  and  yelled  ourselves 
hoarse.' 

"The  captain  was  very  angry  with  all  concerned  for  letting 
the  boy  get  out  of  sight.  Jack  said  that  he  thought  the  boy 
had  fallen  to  the  bottom  of  a  ravine.  The  captain  swore  sav 
agely,  and  threatened  to  put  the  men  in  irons ;  he  even  went 
so  far  as  to  say  that  he  believed  some  of  the  infernal  scoundrels 
had  killed  the  boy,  and  come  to  him  with  that  fool-yarn  about 
tumbling  down  a  ravine.  I  heard  no  more.  This  was  my 
chance.  While  swearing  and  blowing  about  the  boy's  loss,  and 
while  the  men  were  getting  the  water-casks  on  deck,  I  quietly 
slipped  down  the  ship's  side  into  the  water  and  struck  out  for 
shore.  It  was  not  a  great  distance  off,  and  I  made  it  without 
trouble.  The  moon  came  up  soon  after,  and  shed  a  bright 
light  on  the  solitary  scene.  How  to  find  Mark  was  the  next 
question.  As  soon  as  I  thought  it  safe,  I  set  up  such  a  series 
of  yells  and  whoops  as  that  island  had  never  before  heard. 
Much  to  my  delight,  Mark's  answering  yell  soon  came.  We 
were  glad  enough  to  get  together.  We  fell  asleep,  with  a  glo 
rious  feeling  of  freedom.  No  man  can  know  what  that  feeling 
is,  unless  he  has  first  been  subjected  to  the  painful  and  shame 
ful  tyranny  of  a  master.  When  we  awoke  it  was  broad  day 
light.  The  scenery  was  enchanting,  the  air  soft  and  balmy. 
Verdure  and  flowers  were  all  around  us.  Birds  sang  and  twit 
tered  in  the  boughs  and  circled  overhead.  The  sky  was  blue 
and  cloudless.  All  this  was  nice,  but  it  was  not  long  before  we 
discovered  that  we  could  not  live  on  beautiful  scenery.  We 
set  about  exploring  the  woods  for  wild  fruits  and  nuts.  We 
found  a  tree  bearing  large  green  balls  resembling  our  mock- 
orange.  Mark  climbed  the  tree  and  threw  down  half  a  dozen 
of  the  balls,  but  we  made  no  use  of  them.  The  skin  had  an  un- 


230  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

pleasant,  acrid  taste.  This  was  the  bread-tree  fruit,  of  which  I 
had  often  heard,  but  of  which  I  knew  nothing  by  experience. 
Had  we  cut  through  the  green  rind  and  known  how  to  prepare 
the  fruit  inside,  we  would  have  had  a  nourishing  meal.  On  fur 
ther  search  we  came  across  a  banana-tree.  This  satisfied  our 
hunger.  We  spent  several  days  exploring  before  we  saw  any 
sign  of  human  habitation.  All  the  time,  we  subsisted  on  ba 
nanas  and  cocoanuts.  At  length,  from  the  top  of  a  hill,  we 
saw  a  cleared  space  some  ten  or  fifteen  miles  down  the  coast. 
We  made  our  way  towards  this  space.  On  reaching  it,  we  saw 
a  cluster  of  small  white  cabins.  A  dark,  rather  piratical-look 
ing  man  stood  in  the  door  of  one  of  the  cabins.  He  stared  at 
us  as  we  approached. 

"  *  We  are  lost ;  we  are  unfortunate  sailors,'  we  said.  4  Can 
you  give  us  something  to  eat — give  us  work  and  shelter  ?' 

"  The  dark-skinned  man  stared  all  the  harder  at  this  address. 
I  repeated  my  request.  The  man  called,  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
to  some  one  inside  of  the  cabin.  Another  dark-skinned  fellow, 
with  a  black  beard  and  a  red  handkerchief  around  his  head, 
came  to  the  door.  Then  both  men  stared,  and  jabbered  in  the 
unknown  tongue,  which  we  afterwards  knew  was  Portuguese. 
Presently  the  second  man,  motioning  us  to  follow  him,  led  the 
way  to  the  last  cabin  in  the  row.  Before  this  cabin  stood  a 
white  man,  talking  to  another  white  man  sitting  on  a  horse. 
The  piratical-looking  fellow  who  had  piloted  us  jabbered  some 
thing  to  the  white  man,  who  turned  and  eyed  us  keenly.  I 
tried  my  English  on  them,  and  was  delighted  to  be  answered 
in  my  mother-tongue. 

" '  Where  are  you  from  ?'  asked  the  white  man  on  the  horse. 

"  '  We  are  Americans,  from  San  Francisco.' 

"  '  What  do  you  want  ?' 

"  '  We  want  work ;  anything  to  earn  our  bread.' 

"  *  You  can  work  in  the  field  ;  we  have  nothing  else.7 

"  We  accepted ;  there  was  no  alternative.  For  weeks  and 
weeks  we  worked,  side  by  side,  with  Chinamen  and  Portuguese. 
Our  *  home '  consisted  of  two  bunks  in  a  small  hut  already 


A  SAILOR'S  STORY — CONTINUED.  231 

occupied  by  five  Portuguese.  The  hard  life  was  wearing  even 
on  me,  strong  man  that  I  was ;  for  poor  Mark  it  meant  death. 
One  morning,  when  he  attempted  to  get  up,  he  found  his  back 
stiff  and  aching.  He  could  not  stand. 

" '  It's  no  use,'  he  murmured.  '  I'm  done  for.  I'll  never 
stand  it,' 

"This  was  cruel.  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  losing  the 
poor  boy.  I  thought  that  if  I  could  only  get  the  manager  to 
make  him  a  *  luna '  he  might  stand  the  fierce  heat.  A  luna  on 
a  sugar  plantation  has  a  room  to  himself;  he  has  a  horse,  and 
his  work  consists  in  seeing  that  the  gangs  of  Chinese  and  Port 
uguese  under  him  obey  orders.  Wearing  a  striped 'jumper' 
and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  the  luna  rides  about  the  field,  di 
recting  the  men  by  signs.  A  luna  seldom  understands  the 
language  of  the  field  laborers.  In  the  old  time,  in  Virginia,  I 
would  have  thought  a  luna's  work  hard  ;  now  I  thought  that  if 
I  could  only  get  promoted  to  a  lunaship,  our  lives  and  happi 
ness  would  be  assured.  We  would  have  a  cabin  to  ourselves  on 
the  beach,  with  the  surf  breaking  at  our  very  door;  we  would 
have  better  food  and  more  leisure.  I  determined  to  see  the 
proprietor ;  in  the  worst  event  he  could  only  refuse,  and  there 
was  a  chance  that  something  might  be  gained.  Colonel 
Thornton's  residence  was  several  miles  from  the  sugar-mills. 
The  road  thither  was  beautiful.  The  tall  ferns  almost  met 
overhead,  forming  a  living  tunnel  of  green,  through  which  I 
caught  now  and  then  glimpses  of  the  sea  and  of  the  white  surf 
breaking  on  the  rocks  at  the  base  of  the  cliff.  Walking  through 
the  grove  surrounding  the  owner's  house,  as  I  came  up  to  it 
I  saw  a  gentleman  reclining  on  a  cane  couch  on  the  veranda, 
smoking  a  cigar.  A  lady  was  sitting  near  him  before  a  small 
easel,  apparently  at  work  on  a  picture.  The  lady  was  the  first 
to  see  me,  and  I  declare,  as  she  bent  her  eyes  upon  me  I  felt 
hot  flames  run  all  over  me.  I  felt  a  burning  shame  at  being 
seen  by  so  beautiful  a  creature  in  such  a  state  as  I  then  was, 
wearing  the  common  field-hand's  striped  jumper,  my  hair  long 
and  unkempt  and  hanging  over  my  shoulders  for  the  wind  to 


232  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

blow  about ;  my  skin  burned  black  as  a  negro's,  while  she  was 
fair  as  an  angel,  with  golden  hair.  While  I  stood  struck  dumb, 
hat  in  hand,  she  spoke. 

"'Father,'  she  said,  softly,  'here's  one  of  the  Portuguese.' 

"The  father  looked  at  me  lazily.  I  had  picked  up  a  smat 
tering  of  Portuguese,  and  held  it  a  happy  thought  to  pass  as 
one,  so  I  said, 

'"Bons  dias,  senhor'  (Good-morning,  sir). 

"  '  Oh,  father,'  cried  the  angel,  in  an  excited  whisper,  '  he 
looks  exactly  like  a  corsair  —  a  dreadful,  wicked,  handsome 
corsair.  I  want  to  sketch  him,  papa.  Make  him  stand  still, 
please.' 

"'Sketch  away,  pet,'  said  the  amiable  papa;  '  can  you  do  it 
while  I  talk  to  him  ?' 

"  '  Oh  yes  ;  talking  won't  matter,  only  make  him  stand  still.' 

"  I  stood  stone-still ;  the  fact  was,  I  couldn't  move.  I  was 
rooted  to  the  spot  in  a  dazed  state  of  mind,  while  her  lovely 
eyes  glanced  first  at  me,  then  at  the  paper,  as  her  white  fingers 
flew  about  with  the  pencil.  I  tried  to  muster  up  the  few  words 
of  Portuguese  I  had  learned,  so  as  to  say  what  I  had  come  to 
say  ;  but  somehow  they  fled.  I  could  recall  but  two  or  three, 
and  those  I  repeated  over  and  over. 

"  '  Sim,  senhor — sim,  senhor  ;  Muito  seu  criado '  (Yes,  sir — 
yes,  sir;  your  most  humble  servant). 

"'Nao  tenha  vm  medo !  Quo  quer?'  (Well,  well,  don't  be 
afraid!  What  do  you  want?)  said  the  colonel,  impatiently. 

"  '  Sim,  senhor — sim,  senhor.' 

"  'Just  keep  him  still,  papa;  don't  let  him  go.  It'll  be  too 
lovely  for  anything.  I'll  hang  it  in  the  seminary  library.' 

" '  Que  quer?  Que  tern  Vm  ?'  (What  do  you  want,  my 
man?  what  is  the  matter  with  you?)  said  the  colonel,  in  just 
about  as  bad  Portuguese  as  mine.  However,  bad  as  it  was,  it 
had  the  effect  of  bringing  me  to  my  senses.  I  told  the  colonel 
in  the  words  which  I  succeeded  in  mustering  how  poor  Mark  had 
fainted  in  the  field,  and  how  it  would  kill  him  if  he  were  not 
given  easier  work.  The  colonel  said  that  he  would  see  about  it; 


A    SAILOIi's    STORY CONTINUED.  233 

to  send  the  boy  to  him.  I  turned  to  go ;  the  girl  entreated  her 
father  to  make  me  stay. 

"  *  Stand  still,  my  man,'  he  ordered,  just  as  if  I  were  a  slave, 
though  not  unkindly.  I  stood  still  until  she  said  I  might  go. 
The  colonel  took  a  silver  dollar  from  his  pocket  and  threw  it 
at  me.  It  fell  at  my  feet",  but  I  did  not  pick  it  up,  and  heard 
her  say  as  I  walked  off, 

"  *  Oh,  papa,  he  would  not  have  the  money  ;  he's  too  proud.' 

"  *  Pooh !  such  as  he  aren't  proud  that  way,'  laughed  the 
colonel. 

"  Mark  went  up  to  see  the  colonel,  and  was  given  some  work 
about  the  house.  Two  weeks  from  that  he  brought  me  a  mes 
sage  from  Colonel  Thornton  that  I  was  wanted  at  the  house. 
I  went.  The  colonel  was  in  his  office. 

"  '  Mark  tells  me  that  you  are  an  American  ?' 

Uil  am.' 

"  '  A  Virginian  ?' 

" '  Yes.' 

"'Your  name  is  B ?' 

" '  It  is.' 

"  *  I  knew  a  lawyer  of  that  name  in  Virginia.  He  fought  by 
my  side  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  fell  in  one  of  the  battles 
before  Richmond.  Was  he  a  relation  of  yours  ?' 

"  '  My  father  was  a  lawyer,  and  was  mortally  wounded  before 
Richmond,  and  was  buried  in  the  trenches.' 

"  '  He  was  my  friend  and  comrade.  Why  did  you  affect  to 
be  a  Portuguese  when  here  last  ?' 

"  '  Was  I  fit  to  appear  as  a  gentleman  before  a  lady  ?' 

"After  that,  fortune  smiled  on  me.  When  the  colonel 
learned  that  I  had  studied  law,  he  used  his  influence  with  a 
lawyer  in  Honolulu  to  take  me  into  his  office.  I  began  to  make 
my  way  in  the  world,  and  two  years  afterwards,  when  I  visited 
the  island  of  Kaola,  I  was  properly  introduced  to  Miss  Thorn 
ton,  just  returned  from  Mills  Seminary  in  California.  She  is 
now  my  wife,  and  the  corsair  sketch  hangs  in  our  library,  in 
stead  of  in  the  library  of  the  California  seminary." 


234  THE   TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A    TROPICAL     TRIP. 

INCIDENTS  OF  THE  VOYAGE. — A  BURIAL  AT  SEA. —  THE  PASSENGER 
WHO  WAS  "A  BIT  PUT  ABOUT, "AND  THE  TALL  MISSIONARY. —  CU 
RIOUS  SCENE  OFF  THE  SAMOAN  ISLANDS. —  LABOR  ON  THE  SAND 
WICH  ISLANDS.  —  EFFECTS  OF  THE  CONTRACT  SYSTEM.  —  ILLUSTRA 
TION  OF  GEORGE'S  LAND  THEORY.— LIFE  AND  LABOR  ON  SUGAR 

PLANTATIONS. 

IN  pursuing  the  investigation  into  the  treatment  and  condi 
tion  of  sailors,  I  resolved  to  take  a  voyage,  and  by  personal 
observation  corroborate  or  disprove,  as  the  case  might  be,  the 
testimony  given  before  the  Commission.  The  publicity  attend 
ing  the  inquiries  of  the  Commission  had  made  me  too  well 
known  among  captains  and  ship-men  to  hope  to  escape  obser 
vation  on  any  vessel  sailing  direct  from  San  Francisco ;  accord 
ingly,  I  decided  to  go  to  some  other  port  and  take  passage  on 
a  sailing-vessel  with  a  captain  who  would  not  be  likely  to  know 
my  name  and  mission.  I  elected  to  make  the  start  from  some 
Sandwich  Island  port,  and  so  one  afternoon  I  boarded  the  Aus 
tralian  steamer  for  Honolulu. 

The  Australian  steamers  that  sail  from  San  Francisco  are 
built  especially  for  the  passenger  service.  They  afford  even 
more  comfort  than  those  floating  palaces  between  New  York 
and  Liverpool.  The  Mariposa,  which  crosses  the  equator  twelve 
times  a  year,  is  provided  with  large  port-holes  and  one  long, 
unbroken  promenade,  extending  from  stem  to  stern.  To  run 
this  three-thousand-ton  vessel  from  San  Francisco  to  Sydney 
and  return,  a  distance  of  15,000  miles,  costs  $50,000.  When 
the  distance  run  per  day  does  not  exceed  325  miles,  fifty  tons  of 
coal  are  consumed  in  twenty-four  hours.  By  burning  seventy 
tons,  the  Mariposa  can  make  393  miles  a  day.  As  coal  in  San 
Francisco  costs  $12  a  ton,  the  extra  cost  of  running  full  speed 


A   TROPICAL   TRIP.  235 

would  amount  to  $240  a  day,  or  about  $12,000  for  the  round 
trip.  The  Atlantic  steamers  make  faster  time,  and  burn  more 
coal.  A  6000-ton  Cunarder  makes  450  miles,  and  consumes 
350  tons  of  coal  a  day.  The  captain  of  one  of  these  big  steam 
ers  is  paid  $200  and  more  a  month.  The  stokers,  who  do  the 
hardest  work  done  on  sea"  or  land,  get  $40  a  month.  These 
poor  men  are  in  the  bottom  of  the  ship,  where  never  a  breath 
of  fresh  air  can  penetrate,  and  where  the  heat,  especially  in 
passing  through  the  tropics,  is  intense.  Not  long  ago  a  stoker 
was  overcome  by  the  heat,  and  fell  dead  while  in  the  act  of 
wheeling  coal  to  the  furnaces. 

On  my  "  tramp  trip,"  when  at  sea,  I  usually  travelled  third 
class.  It  was  then  my  belief  that  the  cabin  could  not  be  so  in 
teresting  as  the  steerage.  I  have  learned,  however,  that  the 
tramp  traveller  does  not  have  all  the  sights  to  himself. 

There  were  many  interesting  people  in  the  saloon  of  the 
Mariposa.  As  we  were  leaving  the  San  Francisco  wharf,  a 
young  man  leaned  over  the  railing  and  wared  his  handkerchief 
excitedly. 

"  Don't  you  feel  a  bit  put  about  ?"  he  said,  seeing  that  I  was 
watching  him. 

"  No,'  not  at  all." 

"  What !  are  you  glad  to  be  leaving  your  friends  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  came  aboard  of  my  own  free-will.  Didn't  you 
do  the  same  ?" 

"Oh  yes;  still,  I  can't  help  feeling  a  bit  put  about,  you 
know  ;"  and  he  waved  his  handkerchief  again  as  the  tears  came 
into  his  big,  weak,  blue  eyes.  He  explained  afterwards  that  it 
was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  left  home,  and  so,  of  course, 
he  could  not  help  feeling  "  a  bit  put  about."  We  lay  at  anchor 
in  the  Golden  Gate  twelve  hours  waiting  for  the  English  mails, 
then  set  forth  at  night  with  the  electric  lights  on  San  Francis 
co's  steep  hills  beaming  us  a  bright  good-by.  The  second  day 
out,  the  violent  lurching  of  the  vessel  threw  an  old  lady  against 
the  steps  and  killed  her.  I  told  the  young  man  of  this,  but 
be  did  not  seem  at  all  "  put  about.'* 


236  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

"  Oh,  she  was  a  steerage  passenger,  wasn't  she  ?" 

It  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world  to  him  when  I  said  no, 
that  she  was  in  the  cabin.  He  took  great  interest  in  the  case 
from  that  moment,  and  was  promptly  on  hand  at  the  funeral. 
A  missionary  read  services  for  the  dead  as  the  body  lay  wrapped 
in  a  blue  shroud.  A  cannon-ball  was  tied  to  the  feet,  and  the 
corpse  was  ready  to  be  plunged  into  the  boundless  Pacific.  It 
was  a  sad  ceremony  to  all  of  us ;  to  the  son,  who  was  obliged 
to  stand  there  and  see  his  mother  cast  into  the  ocean,  it  was 
heart-rending.  Twenty  years  before,  he  lost  his  father  at  sea. 
The  mother  had  expressed  a  wish  to  follow  her  husband,  and 
the  son  ever  after  had  a  dread  of  the  ocean.  He  tried  to  per 
suade  his  mother  not  to  take  the  voyage,  but  in  vain.  The  old 
lady,  as  she  mounted  the  MariposcCs  gangway,  said  that  she  be 
lieved  she  was  going  to  follow  her  husband.  She  did  on  the 
next  day. 

The  tall  missionary  who  read  the  services  had  a  son  twelve 
years  old  who  told  most  interesting  stories  of  life  among  sav 
ages. 

"Your  boy  has  a  great  future  ahead  of  him,"  I  said  to  the 
missionary.  "  He  will  be  the  Dickens  of  the  Pacific  !" 

I  imagined  this  a  compliment,  but  the  missionary  looked  at 
me  as  solemnly  and  reproachfully  as  though  I  had  said  that  his 
son  would  become  a  thief. 

"  I  have  a  higher  ambition  for  Hiram,"  he  said,  solemnly.  "  It 
is  my  hope  that  he  may  become  a  missionary  to  the  heathen." 

After  that  I  observed  that  Hiram  was  not  allowed  to  asso 
ciate  with  a  person  who  not  only  read  Dickens,  but  prophesied 
for  him  the  same  ungodly  career.  This  good  man  had  been 
all  his  life  in  remote  and  savage  parts  of  the  world.  His  read 
ing  while  on  the  voyage  was  of  other  missionaries,  their  lives 
and  deeds.  His  mind  was  in  a  rut,  in  a  groove  that  shut  out 
from  his  sight  the  good  done  by  such  great  and  humane  writ 
ers  as  Charles  Dickens.* 

*  Some  months  after  my  return  to  America,  I  learned  that  my  thought- 


A  TROPICAL  TRIP.  237 

While  sitting  in  my  state-room  one  day  playing  my  flute,  a 
stout,  paunchy  man  entered,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  made  a  pro 
found  bow. 

"Kennen  sie  mich?"  (Do  you  know  me?)  he  said. 

"  No,  sir,  I  do  not." 

"  Was  !  sie  kennen  miclr  nieht  ?"  (What !  you  do  not  know 
me  ?)  "  I  am  Gutberg,  the  composer."  He  threw  back  his 
head,  folded  his  arms,  and  gazed  at  me  with  a  look  that  seemed 
to  say,  "Behold  and  admire!"  "Come,  you  know  my  music," 
he  went  on  ;  "listen  to  this."  Whereupon  he  began  humming 
a  tune,  and  marking  time  with  wonderful  flourishes  of  his 
arms.  "  Ah,  I  see  you  know  that.  That  is  my  last  composi- 
sition.  I  composed  that  in  Mailand." 

When  I  said  that  I  had  never  heard  his  Mailand  composition 
before,  he  left  me  in  disgust,  and  never  wasted  another  word  on 
me  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

My  cabin-mate,  a  Scotch  parson  thirty-five  years  old,  was  as 
unsophisticated  as  a  boy.  The  inclination  to ''bamboozle" 
verdant  travellers  is  often  irresistible.  At  night,  as  we  lay  in 
our  bunks,  the  Scotch  parson  innocently  swallowed  any  marvel 
lous  stories  I  told  about  America,  and  at  the  climax  would 
stick  his  semi-bald  head  through  the  curtains  and  peer  up  at 
rne  in  the  bunk  above  with  such  childish  confidence  that  I 

less  compliment  to  the  missionary's  son  had  borne  unfortunate  fruit.  His 
parents  one  morning  found,  instead  of  their  son,  a  note  telling  them  that 
they  were  not  to  worry  about  him,  that  "he  had  left  on  the  ship  for  Liv 
erpool,  where  he  intended  to  follow  the  profession  of  newsboy,  and  after 
wards  of  journalist."  "You  will  not  find  it  difficult,"  wrote  my  inform 
ant,  rather  reproachfully,  "  to  follow  the  various  steps  in  this  little  fellow's 
move;  how  the  young  man,  longing  for  the  literary  profession,  and  re 
membering  the  sublime  dignity  with  which  his  father  repelled  your  at 
tempted  compliment  in  predicting  for  his  son  as  brilliant  a  future  as  Dick 
ens,  saw  his  path  beset  with  difficulties,  and  concluded  to  break  away  from 
the  paternal  roof  and  restraint,  and  make  the  venture  for  himself.  Hiram 
thought  that,  to  reach  the  position  at  twenty-four  which  you  enjoy,  he 
could  not  begin  too  early ;  hence  this  move  that  has  caused  his  parents 
such  trouble  and  grief." 


238  THE  TRAMP  AT  HOME. 

was  always  tempted  to  go  on.  I  told  Lira  of  the  deadly  antip 
athy  borne  by  the  people  of  Nevada  towards  stove-pipe  hats. 

"  When  they  see  a  stiff  hat  they  shoot  at  it.  Of  course  it 
often  happens  that  the  bullet  goes  through  your  head  instead 
of  your  hat." 

"  No,  now,  really  ?  Why  are  such  savage  laws  allowed  ?" 
said  the  parson,  horrified. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  the  law;  only  the  custom." 

"  Do  they  shoot  at  the  hats  of  passengers  on  the  cars  ?" 

"  Not  if  they  remain  on  the  cars." 

"  How  fortunate  I  did  not  get  out !" 

"  You  were,  indeed,"  I  replied.  "  A  New  York  gentleman 
who  was  shot  through  the  head  instead  of  the  hat  was  taken 
back  to  New  York  to  be  buried.  All  the  epitaph  put  over 
him  was,  '  He  wore  a  plug  hat  in  Nevada.'  So  well  known  is 
the  Nevada  custom  of  shooting  stiff  hats  that  that  was  suf 
ficient," 

This  story,  and  others  like  it,  the  Scotch  parson  received  in 
good  faith,  as  I  saw  from  his  notes,  which  he  submitted  to  me 
for  correction.  The  people  of  a  certain  small  village  in  Scot 
land  will  hear  some  astonishing  stories  when  their  pastor  re 
turns  from  his  trip  to  Australia. 

The  waiter  at  our  table  was  a  poor  young  man  working  his 
way  to  Sydney.  Naturally,  he  was  not  very  efficient,  and 
there  was  much  grumbling.  The  gentleman  who  sat  next  to 
me  was  the  only  one  who  made  no  complaint.  After  three 
or  four  days,  I  said  to  him, 

"How  is  it  that  you  say  nothing?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
like  long  waits  and  cold  food  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  gentleman.  "  Three  weeks  ago 
I  was  on  the  Germania,  from  Liverpool.  There  was  one  weak- 
headed  youth  on  the  ship.  He  did  his  best,  but  that  was  very 
bad.  All  of  the  passengers  were  continually  scolding  him. 
One  morning  he  came  to  my  berth  before  I  was  up,  and  said, 
'You  ordered  a  bath  at  seven  o'clock?'  'I  did.'  *  Well,  sir, 
I  am  sorry,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  it  isn't  ready.'  '  Why,  what 


A    TROPICAL   TRIP.  230 

is  the  matter?'  'Another  gent  is  taking  a  bath,'  lie  answered. 
I  told  him  not  to  mind,  and  he  went  away.  A  few  minutes 
afterwards  I  heard  him  going  through  the  same  story  with  the 
occupant  of  the  next  state-room.  By  this  time  he  was  crying. 
The  man  in  the  next  room  was  a  little  cross.  ( Get  away  with 
your  whining,'  I  heard  him  say.  The  weak-headed  waiter  left 
the  room,  went  to  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  began  climbing  up 
the  rigging.  I  looked  out  at  him  from  my  window,  and  won 
dered  what  he  meant  to  do.  Before  any  one  had  the  slightest 
idea  of  his  purpose,  he  reached  the  top,  and,  with  a  cry,  leaped 
into  the  ocean.  The  boats  were  lowered.  With  our  glasses 
we  could  see  his  head  bobbing  about,  but  the  sailors  in  the 
small  boat  could  not  see  him,  although  only  a  few  yards  away, 
so  heavy  was  the  swell  that  it  hid  him  from  their  view.  They 
rowed  all  around  him,  and  might  have  saved  him  a  dozen  times 
could  they  have  seen  him.  I  shall  never  forget  the  poor  fel 
low's  agonized  look  as  he  saw  the  men  in  the  boat  rowing 
around,  and  at  last  away  from  him,  and  realized  that  he  was  lost. 
I  would  rather  put  up  with  temporary  inconvenience  than  grum 
ble,  and  possibly  cause  another  simpleton  to  drown  himself." 

After  this  there  was  less  grumbling  at  our  tyro  waiter. 

One  of  the  MariposcCs  passengers,  a  London  guano-mer 
chant,  spends  his  life  in  sailing  about  the  Pacific  Ocean  looking 
for  guano  islands.  One  night  he  favored  us  with  a  story  of 
his  wanderings. 

"  It  gives  one  a  queer  feeling,"  he  said,  "  to  step  on  an  island 
that  no  human  foot  has  ever  trod  before.  Next  to  that  in 
interest  is  an  island  full  of  strange,  wild-looking  savages.  On 
one  of  the  Samoan  group  I  once  saw  several  thousand  copper- 
colored  natives  assembled  to  catch  the  palolo.  This  singular 
sea-worm,  the  size  and  shape  of  Italian  vermicelli,  appears  only 
on  two  days  of  the  year.  I  was  called  away  from  my  ship  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  rowed  to  the  reef,  half  a 
mile  from  the  shore.  There,  wading  about  in  water  three  feet 
deep,  were  thousands  of  natives,  with  lanterns  made  of  dried 
pandanus-leaves,  scooping  up  the  wriggling  palolo  and  dump- 


240  THE    TKAMP   AT    HOME. 

ing  them  into  their  canoes.  At  the  first  peep  of  the  sun  the 
worms  disappear ;  the  next  day,  at  precisely  the  same  hour, 
they  swarm  on  the  reef  again  ;  then  they  return  to  the  unknown 
regions  whence  they  come,  not  to  reappear  for  a  whole  year. 
The  Samoans  eat  the  palolo,  and  declare  that  they  are  as  good 
as  any  fish.  I  did  not  try  them.  They  looked  too  much  like 
long  worms." 

Of  my  cruise  on  a  sailing-vessel  from  Honolulu  little  need 
be  said.  While  I  witnessed  no  instances  of  particular  cruelty 
or  mistreatment,  yet  observation  and  frequent  talks  with  sail 
ors  both  went  to  prove  the  general  truth  of  the  testimony  given 
before  the  Commission,  a  part  of  which  the  reader  has  seen  in 
a  preceding  chapter.  Upon  my  return  to  Honolulu,  I  made 
a  tour  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  This  trip  afforded  me  a  view 
of  labor  under  conditions  entirely  new  to  me. 

The  rapid  decline  of  the  native  Hawaiian  race  has  made  the 
labor  question  on  the  Sandwich  Islands  particularly  pressing. 
Once  there  were  half  a  million  natives;  now  there  are  less  than 
fifty  thousand.  After  a  preamble  reciting  the  decrease  of 
population  and  the  scarcity  of  labor,  the  Government  issued  a 
decree  forbidding  natives  from  emigrating  "  to  California  or 
other  foreign  lands,  unless  by  some  urgent  necessity  which 
must  be  shown  to  the  Governor."  Females  living  on  other 
islands  are  not  even  allowed  to  visit  Honolulu  without  a  pass, 
which  is  issued  only  upon  "  showing  reasonable  cause  for  the 
desire  to  proceed  to  Oahn,  together  with  the  cause  and  proba 
ble  duration  of  such  visit."  Any  female  living  on  another 
island  and  found  on  the  island  of  Oaliu  without  a  permit  is 
liable  to  a  fine  of  twenty-five  dollars. 

In  1852  the  experiment  of  importing  labor  was  tried  for  the 
first  time.  Chinese  coolies  were  engaged  for  five  years,  at 
$3  a  month,  in  addition  to  passage,  food,  and  clothing.  Since 
that  time  the  rate  has  risen  to  $16  a  month.  The  Govern 
ment  undertakes  to  provide  planters  with  labor.  A  planter  goes 
to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  and  says  that  he  wants  so  many 
field  laborers.  The  Minister  imports  from  China  or  Japan,  or 


A   TROPICAL   TKIP.  241 

some  of  the  South  Pacific  islands,  the  desired  number  of  hands. 
The  Hawaiian  Government  pays  their  passage,  and  guarantees 
three  years'  work  at  certain  stipulated  wages,  generally  from 
$15  to  not  above  $18  a  month.  The  Japanese  Government 
takes  an  equally  paternal  interest  in  its  subjects.  It  will  not 
permit  a  subject  to  leave  until  he  has  received  a  three  years' 
contract  guaranteeing  wages  of  not  less  than  $15  a  month 
of  twenty-six  days,  ten  hours  to  the  day,  and  $1  a  month 
for  each  child  to  the  number  of  two,  and  $10  a  month  to  the 
wife  if  there  be  one.  This  contract,  which  must  be  signed 
in  triplicate,  one  copy  being  given  to  the  laborer,  one  to  the 
Hawaiian  Government,  and  one  left  with  the  "  Chiji  of  Kana- 
gawa,"  further  provides  that  fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  laborer's 
wages  must  be  paid  to  the  Japanese  consul,  by  him  to  be 
placed  in  the  Imperial  Treasury  at  Tokio,  where  it  is  kept  at 
five  per  cent,  interest,  and  returned  to  the  laborer  at  the  expira 
tion  of  his  three  years'  contract. 

The  sugar-planter  pays  the  Hawaiian  Government  $30  on 
the  arrival  of  each  laborer;  in  thirty  days  an  additional  $25 
is  paid.  The  passage-money  of  women  is  not  refunded  to  the 
Government.  The  planter  refunds  to  himself  the  money  which 
he  pays  the  Government  by  deducting  $3  a  month  from  the 
laborer's  wages  until  the  whole  amount  is  paid.  The  law  en 
forces  labor  contracts  the  same  as  it  does  other  contracts.  A 
field  laborer  or  mechanic  who  contracts  to  work  for  a  certain 
length  of  time  cannot,  as  with  us,  break  his  contract  and  quit 
when  he  likes.  If  he  leaves,  his  employer  can  call  upon  an 
officer  to  arrest  him,  and  compel  him  to  return  to  work.  In 
theory  this  may  not  be  bad,  but  I  think  it  is  bad  in  practice. 
It  is  not  in  human  nature  for  an  employer  to  be  as  just  or  so 
licitous  for  the  welfare  of  his  workmen  when  they  are  com 
pelled  to  stay  with  him,  as  when  they  have  the  ability  to  leave 
when  mistreated. 

The  principal  diet  of  the  native  Hawaiian  laborers  is  "  poi," 
a  substance  that  looks  and  tastes  like  editors'  paste  after  it  be 
comes  sour.  It  is  cheap,  costing  as  little  as  a  cent  and  a  quar- 
11 


242  THE   TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

ter  a  pound,  and  never  more  than  two  cents  and  a  half.  The 
average  cost  may  be  put  at  two  cents.  One  native  eats  a 
"pai-ai"  (bundle)  of  forty  pounds  in  seven  days.  He  eats,  be 
sides,  fish,  pork,  goat's -meat,  and  other  food,  costing  in  all 
about  a  dollar.  Not  much  bread  is  consumed,  poi  acting  as  a 
substitute.  Neither  tea  nor  coffee  is  used,  as  a  rule,  though 
the  natives  are  fond  of  both,  and  will  work  two  or  three  hours 
extra  for  a  cup  of  tea  or  coffee.  In  some  districts,  as  in  the 
Puna,  on  the  island  of  Hawaii,  the  cost  of  living  is  practically 
nothing.  Bread-fruit,  bananas,  cocoanuts,  and  sweet-potatoes 
grow  wild.  The  native  dives  in  the  water,  catches  his  fish, 
then  goes  into  the  woods  and  gathers  his  bread-fruit  and  veg 
etables.  Nature  supplies  everything.  Once  a  year  the  tax-col 
lector  comes  around  for  the  school  and  road  tax,  amounting  to  $5. 
A  week's  work  loading  a  vessel  pays  that,  whereupon  the  Kanaka 
retires  to  the  woods  again  to  enjoy  his  otium  cum  dignitate. 

Compare  their  condition  with  that  of  the  miserable  peasantry 
of  Europe,  who,  though  living  under  the  most  advanced  forms 
of  civilization,  yet  are  not  as  well  provided  with  creature-com 
forts  as  the  meanest  inhabitant  of  Hawaii.  In  the  Campagna 
around  Rome  shepherds  work  for  seven  cents  a  day.  On  this 
pittance  they  barely  exist.  They  work  hard,  and  receive  a  lit 
tle  bread  and  oil,  and  a  hovel  in  which  to  rest  the  few  hours 
when  not  at  work.  The  Hawaiian  does  not  toil,  neither  does  he 
spin,  yet  he  lives  on  a  diet  which  an  epicure  might  envy.  These 
conditions,  however,  are  changing.  Fifty  years  ago  mission 
aries  came  to  Hilo,  hung  a  bell  in  a  bread-fruit  tree,  and  gath 
ered  the  natives  around  to  worship.  Since  that  time  they  have 
been  undergoing  a  gradual  process  of  civilization.  The  first 
missionaries,  in  1820,  had  a  hard  time.  It  took  six  months  to 
come  around  the  Horn,  and,  once  on  the  island,  it  was  perhaps 
years  before  they  would  hear  from  the  world.  The  mail  was 
sent  in  whaling- vessels  from  New  Bedford.  The  whalers  went 
on  their  voyages  in  the  north  seas  before  touching  at  the  Sand 
wich  Islands.  A  missionary  of  that  time,  writing  home,  said, 
"  There  are  two  beds  in  a  room  twenty  feet  square  to  accommo- 


A    tROPICAL   TRIP.  243 

date  thirteen  people.  Yesterday  the  natives  brought  us  thirty 
hats,  one  hundred  tapas  (a  kind  of  cloth  made  by  pounding  to 
pieces  the  bark  of  a  tree),  one  hundred  cocoanuts,  and  a  quan 
tity  of  calabashes.  This  is  our  supply  of  furniture.  The  house 
is  of  grass,  and  a  sharp  rain  may  wash  the  whole  away  any  mo 
ment."  (The  rainfall  in  Hilo  is  144  inches  a  year.) 

Circumstances  have  changed  since  that  day ;  now  it  is  not 
the  missionary,  but  the  native,  who  has  the  hard  time.  He  is 
being  civilized  into  poverty.  Why  is  this?  Why  does  the 
sum  of  creature -com  forts  decrease  just  in  proportion  as  the 
sum  of  civilization  increases  ?  Certainly  the  answer  to  this,  at 
any  rate  as  far  as  the  Sandwich  Islands  are  concerned,  is  to  be 
found  in  Mr.  George's  "  Progress  and  Poverty."  I  doubt  if 
there  is  any  other  country  on  the  globe  that  affords  so  striking 
an  instance  of  the  effects  of  private  appropriations  of  land. 
Within  the  memory  of  men  still  living,  the  Sandwich  Islands 
had  no  civilized  government;  the  land  was  practically  free  to 
all  the  people.  Then,  with  a  population  of  four  hundred  thou 
sand,  every  one  had  at  least  a  sufficiency.  Now,  with  a  popu 
lation  of  only  forty  thousand,  but  with  the  civilized  method  of 
land  appropriation,  want  and  poverty  are  beginning  to  be  felt. 
As  late  as  twenty  years  ago  there  was  no  land  appropriated  by 
speculators  on  the  island  of  Maui;  then  came  a  stranger  from 
a  foreign  land,  who,  by  means  with  which  I  am  not  acquainted, 
succeeded  in  appropriating  twenty-eight  thousand  acres  to  his 
own  use  and  profit.  Necessarily,  the  opportunities  of  the  na 
tives  were  restricted  by  this  appropriation.  Henceforward,  it  is 
true,  they  could  work  in  sugar  mills  and  fields,  but  such  work 
would  be  for  this  stranger,  not  for  themselves,  and  they  would 
be  obliged  to  accept  a  part  of  their  production  instead  of  the 
whole.  Just  in  proportion  as  the  island  is  appropriated  by 
land-grabbers  does  the  condition  of  the  people  become  harder 
and  more  poverty-stricken.  In  Hawaii  a  much  smaller  propor 
tion  of  the  land  has  been  appropriated,  and  in  Hawaii  we  find 
the  condition  of  the  natives  proportionately  more  prosperous 
than  in  Maui. 


244  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

A  rich  Portuguese  in  Ililo,  Hawaii,  Las  built  ten  cottages  of 
three  rooms  each,  with  a  veranda,  which  he  rents  for  $6  a  month. 
These  cottages  are  occupied  by  Portuguese  laborers,  who  earn 
$1  a  day  loading  and  unloading  vessels.  In  Honolulu  the 
same  cottage  would  cost  $10  a  month.  Good  beef  costs  in 
Honolulu  10  to  12  cents  a  pound;  flour,  $6  to  $7  a  barrel. 
Everything,  even  sugar,  comes  from  California — a  great  change 
since  1848,  when  California  imported  from  Honolulu  all  her 
food  supplies,  including  grain  for  cattle  and  horses.  The  only 
article  California  now  imports  is  raw  sugar,  and  possibly  she 
may  soon  cease  to  import  that,  as  Mr.  Spreckels's  project  for 
beet-sugar  culture  in  California  seems  likely  to  prove  successful. 

On  the  Mariposa  I  became  acquainted  with  a  wealthy  Maui 
sugar -planter,  and  accepted  his  invitation  to  visit  his  planta 
tions.  The  purser  called  us  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Hastily  dressing,  we  slid  down  the  rope  into  the  small  boat, 
which  four  strong  oarsmen  pulled  for  the  shore.  The  moon 
shone  brightly ;  ahead  of  us  rose  the  majestic  crater  of  old 
Haleakala,  the  largest  volcano  in  the  world,  ten  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  with  a  crater  thirty  miles  in  circumference. 
On  a  spur  of  the  huge  mountain  rested  a  bright  light,  the 
morning-star.  It  seemed  to  rise  up  gradually  into  space.  A 
coral  reef  almost  enclosed  the  bay.  The  dark  Kanakas  rowed 
for  the  narrow  channel,  and  entered  it,  with  the  foaming  break 
ers  dashing  against  the  reef — so  near  us  on  either  side  that  the 
spray  of  the  waves  fell  on  us  like  heavy  rain.  Mr.  Corn  well, 
the  sugar-planter  whom  I  was  accompanying  home  on  a  visit, 
had  been  absent  two  months.  He  was  received  with  an  almost 
royal  welcome.  His  carriage  was  waiting  on  the  beach ;  we 
jumped  in,  and  were  soon  spinning  along,  enjoying  the  cool 
night  air,  and  the  superb  beauty  of  the  sea  and  the  mountains 
bathed  with  silvery  moonlight.  Passing  a  clump  of  white  cab 
ins,  a  turn  in  the  road  revealed  a  strange  scene — a  low,  spacious 
house,  with  broad  verandas,  lighted  up  with  festoons  of  colored 
lanterns;  a  grove  of  richest  tropical  shrubbery,  also  hung  with 
Chinese  lanterns;  and  around  a  bonfire  a  dozen  dusky  men, 


A  TROPICAL   TRIP.  247 

with  musical  instruments  in  their  hands.  Our  carriage  whirled 
up.  Bomb !  went  a  small  cannon,  rockets  darted  up  into  the  sky ; 
the  dusky  men  put  their  instruments  to  their  lips,  and  the  weird 
sounds  of  the  Hawaiian  national  hymn  greeted  our  ears.  These 
men  had  sat  up  three  nights,  expecting  their  master.  His 
coming  was  made  a  jubilee.  They  sang  and  played  until  five 
o'clock,  when  the  first  streaks  of  the  morning  sun  appeared 
over  Haleakala's  lofty  crest,  and  they  retired  to  their  cabins, 
laid  aside  their  instruments,  and  prepared  for  their  day's  work. 
The  regard  which  these  simple  laborers  seemed  to  bear  for  their 
employer  reminded  me  of  the  stories  of  Louisiana  plantation 
homes  of  ante  bellum  days.  They  crowded  around  and  pressed 
his  hand,  and  beamed  all  over  when  he  spoke  to  them  and 
showed  an  interest  in  their  welfare  by  kindly  questions  and 
smiles. 

The  Khedive  of  Egypt  has  a  plantation  that  yields  five 
thousand  tons  of  sugar  a  year  —  a  big  plantation,  yet  small 
compared  with  that  of  Glaus  Spreckels.  which  in  one  exception 
ally  good  year  yielded  fourteen  thousand  tons,  and  which  yields, 
on  the  average,  from  six  to  eight  thousand  tons. 

How  many  who  drop  a  lump  of  sugar  into  their  coffee  or 
tea  in  the  morning  know  anything  of  the  strange  life,  the 
strange  world,  that  produces  that  lump  !  To  the  million  or 
so  New  Yorkers  who  rush  along  Broadway,  New  York  is  the 
world ;  yet  the  little  lump  of  sugar  they  eat  in  the  morning 
comes  from  another  world,  and,  could  it  speak,  would  tell  an 
interesting  story. 

Imagine  a  vast  tract  of  twenty-eight  thousand  acres  between 
two  mountains — the  one  mountain  covered  with  greenest  verd 
ure,  the  other  a  dead  volcano,  bleak,  bare,  and  desolate.  From 
springs  in  these  mountains  water  is  conducted  forty  miles  to 
the  cane-fields,  converting  into  blooming  plantations  what  a 
few  years  ago  were  arid  wastes.  Forty  miles  of  railroad  track 
traverse  the  fields,  and  four  locomotives,  with  long  trains  of 
cars,  transport  the  cane  to  the  mills.  In  addition  to  the  regu 
lar  lines  of  railroad,  sections  of  portable  track  are  thrown  in 


248 


THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 


different  directions  as  needed.  A  gang  of  Chinamen  can  quick 
ly  throw  a  mile  or  two  of  this  track  in  any  desired  direction, 
thus  enabling  the  cane  to  be  brought  by  rail  from  even  the 
more  remote  parts  of  the  plantation.  On  the  southern  islands 
of  the  group,  where  water  is  more  abundant,  the  cane  is  floated 
to  the  mills  in  flumes.  These  methods  of  transportation  save 


THE   WATER-FLUME. 


at  least  three  or  four  dollars  a  ton  over  the  old  way  of  hauling 
by  ox-teams.  When  a  car-load  of  sugar  reaches  the  mill,  it  is 
unloaded  directly  into  the  roller-machines.  They  grind  the  cane, 
expressing  65  per  cent,  into  juice.  A  second  set  of  powerful 
rollers  take  the  partially  denuded  cane,  and  express  an  addi 
tional  12  per  cent.,  making  a  total  of  77  per  cent.  The  actual 
per  cent,  of  juice  contained  in  the  cane  is  88;  but  all  over  77 
per  cent.,  or  at  most  78  per  cent.,  is  lost,  the  most  powerful 
rollers  being  unable  to  squeeze  the  cane  perfectly  dry.  Nine 
teen  per  cent,  of  the  77  per  cent,  of  juice  is  sugar;  thus,  1000 
pounds  of  cane  yields  770  pounds  of  juice, which  in  turn  yields 


A   TROPICAL   TKir.  249 

147  pounds  of  sugar.  In  polarizing  the  crude  into  pure  sugar, 
there  is  a  further  loss  of  about  3  per  cent.,  so  that  the  1000 
pounds  of  cane  finally  yields  142  pounds  of  pure  sugar.  This 
is  packed  into  sacks  and  loaded  into  sailing-vessels  that  lie  at 
anchor  half  a  mile  from  the  mills,  ready  to  sail  for  San  Fran 
cisco. 

The  Spreckels  plantation  is  a  world  within  itself.  Almost 
every  sort  of  labor  is  required  to  conduct  its  multiplicity  of 
affairs.  Civil  engineers  are  needed  to  construct  railroads  and 
build  bridges;  carpenters  to  make  houses;  wheelwrights,  ma 
chinists,  sugar-boilers,  and  a  dozen  other  kinds  of  mechanics,  to 
ply  their  various  trades.  Of  all  the  laborers,  the  most  peculiar 
were  those  I  saw  from  a  locomotive  as  I  was  gayly  riding 
through  the  fields.  They  were  galloping  up  and  down  in 
one  of  the  ditches  that  bring  water  from  the  mountains.  The 
women  had  their  gowns  tucked  up,  and  were  riding  astride  like 
the  men.  One  had  a  tin  can  in  her  hand,  from  which  she  was 
feeding  a  puppy  as  she  galloped  along,  splashing  the  water  right 
and  left.  These  Kanakas  were  having  a  jolly  time,  doing  noth 
ing  but  riding  about,  and  earning  therefor  a  dollar  a  day.  They 
are  employed  to  ride  in  the  irrigating  canals,  in  order  to  knead, 
as  it  were,  the  bottom  of  the  ditch,  and  prevent  the  water  from 
leaking  away.  Of  the  fourteen  hundred  men  on  the  plantation, 
only  one  hundred  are  Caucasians,  employed  as  lunas  (foremen), 
mechanics,  and  sugar-boilers;  the  rest  tire  Japanese,  Chinese, 
and  natives.  The  head  engineer  of  the  steam-ploughs  receives 
$175  per  month,  together  with  board  and  a  pleasant  cottage. 
Each  of  his  two  assistants  receives  $125  per  month  and  board. 
The  steam-ploughs,  the  wheels  of  which  have  tires  three  feet 
wide,  go  bowling  over  the  ground  in  a  most  astonishing  manner. 
They  weigh  twenty  tons,  and  go  through  the  fields  in  pairs 
four  hundred  yards  apart.  On  each  plough  is  a  revolving 
drum,  around  which  is  coiled  four  hundred  yards  of  wire 
cable.  The  ploughing-machine  is  drawn  from  one  engine  to 
the  other  by  means  of  the  cables.  Five  furrows  are  made ; 
then  the  engines  move  forward  a  little,  the  five  ploughs  arc 
11* 


250  THE   TRAMP  AT   HOME. 

drawn  back  again,  making  five  more  furrows.     In  one  day  two 
of  these  engines  can  plough  twelve  acres  of  the  hardest  land. 

All  white  labor  on  plantations  receives  board  and  lodging,  in 
addition  to  a  salary.  Carpenters,  for  flume-building,  get  $60 
per  month  ;  head-carpenters  get  $120.  In  the  mills,  sugar-boil 
ers  are  paid  from  $60  to  $125  per  month.  The  Chinese  and 
Japanese,  who  actually  produce  the  sugar,  who  plant  the  cane 
and  gather  it,  who  place  it  on  the  cars  and  bring  it  to  the  mills 
ready  for  the  skilled  labor  to  transform  it  into  the  sugar  as  we 
know  it — these  men  do  the  hardest  work,  and  receive  the  least 
pay.  They  earn  $19  per  month,  and  fuel  estimated  at  two  cents 
a  day.  The  sleeping  quarters  of  the  Asiatics  consist  of  the 
usual  straw  matting,  spread  on  hard  boards,  arranged  in  bunks, 
about  a  dozen  men  sleeping  in  a  room  twelve  feet  square.  Ex 
cepting  this  tendency  to  herd  together,  they  appear  cleanly  in 
their  habits.  In  riding  about,  I  noticed  numbers  of  Chinamen 
standing  naked  in  the  field,  bathing  in  water  obtained  from  a 
neighboring  canal.  The  Japanese  have  no  confidence  in  Euro 
pean  doctors,  and  will  not  go  to  a  plantation  that  does  not 
provide  a  medical  man  of  their  own  kind.  The  Japanese  M.D. 
at  Mr.  Spreckels's  is  paid  a  salary  of  $100  per  month.  The 
foremen,  or  lunas,  as  they  are  called  in  Hawaii,  live  in  cabins 
near  the  camps  of  the  men  whom  they  oversee.  Each  cabin  con 
sists  of  two  rooms,  one  luna  to  a  room.  When  a  luna  marries 
he  is  allowed  an  entire  cabin,  and  $25  a  month  extra  in  lieu  of 
board.  The  food  furnished  is  better  than  might  be  expected. 
At  a  quarter  to  six,  breakfast — of  oatmeal,  coffee,  bread,  and 
beefsteak — is  served.  At  twelve  o'clock,  dinner  of  soup,  roast 
potatoes,  pie  or  pudding.  Supper,  at  half -past  five,  usually 
consists  of  tea,  bread,  butter,  and  cold  meat  left  over  from  din 
ner.  Mr.  Spreckels  remarked  that  his  men  were  more  fastidi 
ous  than  he.  They  once  refused  to  eat  unrefined  molasses, 
which  he  had  been  obliged  to  eat  for  two  years  when  at  school. 
The  native  Hawaiians  are  tremendous  eaters.  After  disposing 
of  a  large  calabash  of  poi,  they  come  in  and  eat  a  white  man's 
dinner  with  as  much  relish  as  though  they  had  been  fasting  for 


A   TROPICAL   TRIP.  251 

days.  They  spend  little  for  clothing — 75  cents  for  a  blouse, 
$1.50  for  a  pair  of  breeches,  and  perhaps  $2  for  shoes  to  wear 
on  Sunday. 

Mr.  John  D.  Spreckels,  the  manager  of  his  father's  vast  in 
terests,  though  a  young  man,  has  much  ability,  and  has  come 
out  of  several  trying  positions  with  flying  colors.  Those  famil 
iar  with  labor  troubles  will  easily  understand  that  the  manager 
of  a  great  plantation,  and  of  steam  and  sailing  vessels  that 
traverse  the  ocean  almost  from  pole  to  pole,  has  no  easy  task. 
On  the  docks  in  San  Francisco  Mr.  Spreckels  was  once  attacked 
by  an  infuriated  mob,  whom  he  kept  at  bay  with  a  revolver 
until  the  police  came  to  his  rescue.  Even  on  the  tropical  island 
of  Maui  the  strike  fever  once  broke  out,  and  Mr.  Spreckels, 
being  present,  was  called  on  to  adjust  matters.  There  were 
fourteen  hundred  men,  whose  places,  should  they  quit  in  a 
body,  it  would  be  impossible  to  fill  in  time  to  save  the  cane. 
The  men  knew  this,  knew  that  their  employer  was  unwilling  to 
let  $300,000  worth  of  cane  go  to  waste,  so  they  made  the  most 
exorbitant  demands.  Mr.  Spreckels  was  equal  to  the  emer 
gency.  He  harangued  them,  and  while  talking  his  managers 
were  busy  executing  his  orders  to  lock  up  all  the  provision 
supplies.  When  this  was  done,  Mr.  Spreckels  concluded  his 
speech  by  offering  the  men  the  alternatives  of  going  to  work  on 
the  old  terms  or  of  leaving  that  day.  The  men  now  learned  that 
if  they  had  Mr.  Spreckels,  he  also  had  them.  Fourteen  hun 
dred  people  could  not  find  provisions  on  a  lonely  island  as  easily 
as  they  might  in  Xew  York.  The  lunas  were  well  armed,  and 
there  was  no  chance  of  storming  the  storehouses.  When  din 
ner-time  came -around,  the  situation  impressed  itself  on  the 
hands,  and  they  went  back  to  work. 

One  morning,  after  an  hour's  delicious  swim  in  the  cool  surf, 
I  rode  a  few  miles  down  the  beach  from  the  Spreckels  planta 
tion,  to  visit  some  native  grass  houses.  One  house  that  I  vis 
ited  was  not  quite  six  feet  high.  I  was  obliged  to  stoop  when 
in  it.  The  floor  consisted  of  straw  matting  spread  on  the  bare 
earth.  A  coarse  grass  hammock  swunfi  from  the  low  ceiling. 


252  THE    TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

Under  the  hammock  was  a  mattress.  Cocoanuts,  gourds,  and 
ragged  clothing  lay  scattered  about.  The  gourds  were  filled 
with  poi. 

"Do  you  eat  this?"  I  said,  pointing  to  the  pasty  compound. 

The  Kanaka  did  not  understand.  He  pointed  to  his  ear,  and 
looked  solemn.  I  rarely  saw  a  Kanaka  who  was  not  solemn. 
I  answered  him  by  signs.  Taking  him  by  the  arm,  I  led  him 
to  a  calabash  of  poi,  and  putting  my  finger  to  my  mouth, 
went  through  the  motion  of  eating.  He  comprehended,  and 
solemnly  stuck  his  finger  into  the  poi,  then  thrust  the  poi-cov- 
ered  finger  into  his  mouth.  All  this  he  did  with  as  much 
solemnity  as  though  it  were  a  funeral  rite.  I  alighted  at  a 
cocoanut-grove  not  far  away,  and  beckoned  to  a  boy  who  was 
lying  on  the  grass  to  climb  up  the  tree  and  gather  some  nuts. 
To  my  surprise,  as  the  boy  drew  near,  I  recognized  in  him  a 
fellow- passenger  from  the  island  of  Tahiti.  He  was  in  the 
steerage  of  the  ship  with  an  old  woman,  and  when  I  first  saw 
him  was  dressed  in  a  shirt  and  breeches.  At  the  cocoanut- 
grove  he  was  attired  simply  and  wholly  in  Nature's  garb.  He 
understood  my  signs,  and  with  a  bound  started  up  the  slim, 
smooth  trunk  of  the  cocoanut-tree,  reaching  the  tuft  of  foliage 
fifty  feet  above  the  ground  in  almost  the  same  time  that  a  white 
boy  would  have  gone  fifty  feet  on  the  ground.  The  cocoanut, 
which  was  so  soft  that  it  had  to  be  eaten  with  a  spoon,  was  not 
as  palatable  to  my  taste  as  the  stale  cocoanuts  in  America.  Per 
haps  this  is  because  of  my  perverted  taste.  However  that  may 
be,  certain  it  is  that  the  nut  fresh  from  the  tree  seemed  insipid — 
on  the  same  principle,  I  suppose,  that  fresh  eggs  taste  insipid 
to  Chinamen,  who  are  accustomed  to  eggs  ancient  and  strong. 


TWO   VOLCANOES.  253 


CHAPTER    XX. 

TWO    VOLCANOES. 

A  NIGHT  ON  THE  VERGE  OF  SHEOL.  —  THE  AWFUL  FIRES  OF  KI- 
LAUEA.  —  IN  THE  IAO  VALLEY.  —  THE  SOUTH  SEA  ISLANDERS. — WE 
BECOME  LOST  IN  THE  CRATER  OF  A  VOLCANO. 

TWELVE  of  the  longest  hours  I  ever  experienced — always 
excepting  a  night  I  was  kept  in  an  Italian  jail  at  Portici — were 
those  spent  in  ascending  the  great  volcano  of  Ilalcakala  (House 
of  the  Sun).  My  guide,  Haunali,  and  I  set  forth  at  three  in 
the  afternoon.  The  first  two  miles  lay  through  fields  of  sugar 
cane  and  across  stretches  of  sandy  desert.  A  fierce  tropical 
sun  beat  upon  us,  while,  to  increase  the  unpleasantness  of  the 
situation,  the  trade-wind  blowing  in  from  the  sea  swept  dirt 
and  sand  into  our  faces.  Haunali  was  a  fluent  linguist.  He 
had  learned  one  word  of  English.  That  word  he  could  speak 
with  admirable  facility  and  distinctness. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  cave  ?"  I  asked. 

Haunali  waved  his  hand,  looked  solemn,  and  answered, 
"  Spreckels." 

"  Will  we  reach  the  cave  before  night  ?" 

"  Spreckels,"  replied  Haunali,  waving  his  hand  at  the  green 
fields.  We  met  a  rude  ox-cart,  in  which  were  heaped  a 
woman,  a  child,  half  a  dozen  dogs,  and  some  chickens. 

"  Are  these  people  moving  ?" 

"  Spreckels,"  returned  Haunali,  gravely.  This  innocent  na 
tive  had  Spreckels  on  the  brain.  I  learned  afterwards  that  he 
had  once  worked  for  the  noted  sugar-king.  The  advantage  of 
having  an  intelligent  guide  who  gives  information  like  Hau 
nali  cannot  be  over-estimated.  The  Hawaiian  language  is  so 
largely  composed  of  vowel  sounds  that  I  thought  it  possible 


254  THE    TRAMP  AT    HOME. 

that  Haunali  might  understand  something  of  Italian,  which 
also  is  a  vowel  language.  So  I  said, 

"  Parlate  Italiano «" 

"  Parlate  Italiano,"  repeated  Haunali,  with  excellent  accent. 

«  Si «» 

''Si." 

He  was  a  perfect  parrot.  Everything  that  I  said  he  repeated 
with  solemn  gravity.  The  next  traveller  who  secures  the  serv 
ices  of  this  intelligent  guide  will  imagine  that  he  was  once  a 
railroad  car-porter.  After  creeping  along  through  the  sand, 
we  at  last  came  to  a  solid  stretch.  Spurring  my  horse,  I  cried, 
"All  aboard!"  and  started  off  at  a  gallop.  "All  aboard!" 
shouted  Haunali,  and  followed  after.  The  expression  caught 
his  fancy,  and  every  half-hour  after  that  he  cried  out,  "  All 
aboard !"  and  started  off  at  a  gallop.  We  reached  the  base  of 
the  volcano  about  dark,  and  after  eating  of  the  lunch  which 
we  had  brought,  we  began  the  long  and  wearisome  ascent. 
The  conversation  with  Haunali  was  of  too  profound  a  nature 
to  be  kept  up  under  such  circumstances,  so  we  climbed  on  in 
silence,  clinging  tightly  to  our  horses  as  they  scrambled  over 
the  rough  stones  and  lava.  The  shadows  grew  darker  and 
darker.  As  we  ascended  higher,  the  clouds  thickened ;  they 
seemed  to  rest  on  the  side  of  the  mountain  in  layers.  We 
passed  through  a  drenching  mist ;  then  came  a  short  period  of 
dry  cold,  then  another  drenching  mist. 

The  cave,  which  we  reached  at  midnight,  is  merely  a  small 
hole  in  the  side  of  the  bluff,  protected  overhead  by  a  roof  of 
lava — as  though  the  molten  mass,  in  its  course  down  the  mount 
ain,  had  suddenly  stopped  short  and  froze  in  the  air.  Hau 
nali  gathered  a  meagre  handful  of  brushwood,  and  we  huddled 
up  in  our  blankets  and  overcoats  by  a  miserable  little  fire  until 
it  was  time  to  start  for  the  summit,  still  a  thousand  feet  above 
us.  At  that  height — nine  thousand  feet  above  the  sea — the  air 
is  thin  and  cold;  and  I  was  glad  when  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  came,  when  we  set  out  for  the  summit.  We  were  at 
least  warm  while  walking.  Two  hours  were  consumed  in  mak- 


TWO    VOLCANOES.  255 

ing  that  last  one  thousand  feet;  then  we  stood  on  the  brink  of 
the  largest  crater  in  the  world. 

"  Haleakala !"  exclaimed  Haunali,  and  then  laid  himself  flat 
on  his  face  and  went  to  sleep.  A  less  intelligent  guide  might 
have  begun  an  argument  on  the  tariff,  or  an  untimely  theolog 
ical  discussion,  but  Ilaunali  did  nothing  so  absurd ;  he  simply 
informed  me  that  I  was  on  Haleakala,  lest  I  might  fancy  that 
it  was  Vesuvius  or  ^Etna.  Then  he  subsided,  leaving  me  alone 
to  survey  the  wonderful  scene. 

The  clouds  were  far  below ;  the  moon  shone  clear  and  soft 
on  the  vast  world  of  desolation  which  lay  beneath  it.  Before 
me  was  the  brink  of  the  huge  crater,  two  thousand  feet  deep 
and  thirty  miles  in  circumference.  In  this  dreadful  pit  a  dozen 
cones  loom  up,  with  black  mouths,  whence  once  issued  streams 
of  lava  and  fire.  Scientists  predict  a  more  violent  state  of  action 
for  this  volcano.  Whoever  witnesses  the  fierce  eruption  when 
it  comes  will  see  a  sight  of  unparalleled  grandeur. 

While  I  was  gazing  on  the  crater  with  the  black  cones  and 
deep  pits  a  rosy  glow  began  to  appear  in  the  east,  then 
a  tip  of  fire.  As  this  tip  rose  up,  the  round,  red  sun  shed  a 
fiery  glow  over  the  bottom  of  the  crater,  and  over  the  sullen, 
burned-out  cones.  Darkness  kindled  into  light,  and  the  whole 
of  the  vast  pit  to  its  deepest  bottom  was  red  and  alive  once 
more.  WThen  the  sun  was  up  in  all  his  glory,  volumes  of  clouds 
began  to  roll  in  from  the  sea,  covering  the  cones  and  frozen 
lava-streams  as  with  billows  of  snow.  The  clouds  heaped  them 
selves  up  in  white,  rolling  hills.  At  one  moment  it  seemed  as 
if  I  were  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  Arctic  Ocean ;  at  an 
other,  a  rift  in  the  clouds  presented  a  view  resembling  a  Swiss 
avalanche,  with  a  wall  of  snow  five  thousand  feet  high.  On  this 
snowy  mountain  my  six-foot  body  cast  a  gigantic  shadow.  I 
raised  my  hand ;  the  hand  of  the  gigantic  shadow  stretched 
across  the  thirty  miles  of  the  crater.  It  is  these  marvellous 
cloud  effects  that  make  it  worth  while  climbing  Haleakala  in 
the  night.  When  the  sun  is  an  hour  high  the  clouds  dissolve, 
leaving  nothing  to  be  seen  save  the  valley  and  ocean  on  one 


256  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

side,  and  the  dead  cones  and  crater  on  the  other.  From  that 
height  of  ten  thousand  feet,  the  great  plantation  of  Spreckels, 
with  its  long  rows  of  cabins  and  stables,  appeared  to  be  a  mere 
patch. 

It  was  my  intention  to  descend  into  the  crater,  traverse  the 
vast  fields  of  frozen  lava,  and  look  down  into  the  bottomless, 
once  fiery,  depths  of  the  cones;  but  an  untoward  accident  com 
pelled  me  to  give  up  this  idea.  I  told  Haunali  to  bring  the 
lunch. 

"  Haleakala,"  was  the  guide's  pertinent  reply.  Then  I  point 
ed  to  my  mouth,  and  repeated  my  command  by  signs.  Haunali 
understood.  He  went  off,  returning  in  a  few  minutes,  however, 
empty-handed  as  he  went.  After  much  sign-talking,  he  made 
me  understand  that  the  lunch  was  lost.  I  straightway  felt 
twice  as  ravenous  as  I  had  felt  before.  The  Kanaka  had  set 
the  basket  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice ;  a  strong  wind  blew  it 
over,  and  our  provisions  were  at  that  very  moment  scattered 
two  thousand  feet  below  us,  at  the  bottom  of  the  crater.  One 
cannot  enjoy  hard  climbing  on  an  empty  stomach.  Half-way 
down  the  mountain  we  came  across  some  ohela  berries.  These 
berries  are  like  the  huckleberry  in  size  and  taste.  Before  mis 
sionary  days  they  were  held  sacred  to  the  goddess  Pele,  and  in 
those  days  no  Kanaka  dared  to  eat  ohelas  without  first  throw 
ing  a  quantity  into  the  volcano  as  an  offering  to  Pele.  Hau 
nali  and  I  were  too  famished  to  think  of  poor  Pele.  We  de 
voured  the  berries  eagerly,  and  found  them  delicious. 

Some  years  ago,  a  writer,  remarking  upon  the  hospitality  of 
the  Sandwich  Islanders,  said  that  visitors  took  advantage  of  it 
to  such  an  extent  that  planters  fled  from  their  homes  to  avoid 
unwelcome  strangers.  Since  then,  most  travellers,  when  they  en 
ter  a  planter's  house,  begin  by  saying  that  they  hope  "  they  will 
not  cause  their  host  to  flee."  I  wish  to  caution  people  against 
making  this  remark.  It  has  been  so  often  made  that  only  by 
an  effort  can  the  planter  refrain  from  "ringing  his  chestnut- 
bell"  when  he  hears  it.  AVhen  I  reached  Mr.  Cornwell's  house 
I  found  no  reason  to  apologize.  Although  a  perfect  stranger, 


TWO   VOLCANOES.  257 

I  was  received  with  open  hospitality,  and  invited  to  remain  un 
til  I  had  seen  all  the  sights  of  the  neighborhood. 

Nothing  could  afford  a  greater  contrast  to  the  Haleakala  trip 
than  that  made  from  Mr.  Cornwell's  plantation  to  the  lao  valley. 
Haleakala  is  huge,  sublime,  desolate.  The  mountains  which  pen 
in  the  lao  valley  tower  thousands  of  feet  almost  perpendicularly; 
but  they  are  picturesque  rather  than  grand,  for  the  wonderful 
green  that  covers  even  the  steepest  cliffs  softens  and  beautifies 
the  effect.  The  walls  of  the  gorge  lift  themselves  on  either 
side  as  you  climb  the  table-land  overlooking  the  valley — walls 
so  green  that  the  eye  never  tires  of  resting  on  them.  One  rock 
which  stands  alone,  its  green  head  two  thousand  feet  up  in  the 
clouds,  is  called  the  Needle.  The  natives  say  that  when  the 
great  Hawaiian  chief  Kamehameha  invaded  the  island  he  drove 
the  Mauian  army  upon  this  cliff,  from  which,  rather  than  be 
made  prisoners,  they  hurled  themselves  into  the  abyss  below. 
A  great  many  bones  were  found  at  the  base  of  the  Needle, 
which  the  present  king  had  removed  to  a  cave  farther  up  the 
ravine. 

While  we  were  reclining  on  a  bed  of  ferns,  gazing  up  at 
the  great  green  walls,  and  at  the  silvery  bands  of  water  that 
trickled  from  the  clouds  down  the  sides  of  the  cliffs,  the  servants 
were  preparing  our  lunch.  They  first  went  on  a  foraging  trip, 
returning  with  armfuls  of  flowers,  guavas,  bananas,  and  other 
delicious  fruit,  that  grew  wild  in  the  neighborhood.  The  flowers 
were  converted  into  "leis"  (wreaths),  and  before  we  sat  down 
each  one  of  the  party  was  encircled  with  fragrant  roses.  Even 
the  horses  and  dogs  were  ornamented  in  the  same  flowery 
fashion.  We  were  all  a  gay-looking  set,  as  we  ate  our  lunch 
that  day  in  the  lao  Valley  by  the  side  of  a  swift  brook.  The 
servants  were  South  Sea  Islanders.  Ten  years  ago  they  were 
savages ;  now,  except  for  the  great  holes  punched  in  their  ears, 
they  presented  little  to  remind  one  of  the  savage.  They  are 
powerful -looking  fellows,  with  a  dark,  copper -colored  skin 
which  shines  like  polished  bronze.  I  asked  one  of  them  how 
he  liked  the  Sandwich  Islands.  "  Good,"  he  replied.  "  In  my 


258  THE   TBAMP    AT    HOME. 

island,  plenty  to  eat,  but  no  work;  only  climb  cocoanut-trees. 
Here,  plenty  eat  and  plenty  work."  It  is  unusual  to  hear  of 
objections  because  of  no  work.  While  we  were  eating  lunch 
it  rained  on  top  of  the  mountains.  This  swelled  the  numerous 
torrents,  and  made  our  descent  difficult.  The  ladies  from  the 
plantations  were  compelled  to  mount  the  men's  saddles,  it  be 
ing  dangerous,  if  not  impossible,  to  cross  on  side-saddles.  So 
heavy  and  rapid  is  the  fall  of  rain  in  these  parts,  that  one  half- 
hour  suffices  to  convert  a  rivulet  into  a  torrent.  People  have 
been  known  to  be  thus  caught  in  the  lao  Valley,  and  unable  to 
return  for  several  days. 

The  voyage  from  the  island  of  Maui,  or  Oahu,  to  Hawaii  is 
extremely  rough,  but  the  sea-sick  traveller  is  relieved  by  fre 
quent  stoppages  at  island  way-ports.  You  are  violently  sick  for 
a  few  hours;  then  the  steamer  stops,  and  you  at  once  go  ashore 
and  eat  a  lunch  of  the  fruit  offered  by  the  natives ;  then  go  on 
board  and  lose  the  aforesaid  lunch,  and  become  miserable  again. 
The  places  where  we  landed  seemed  most  forlorn.  The  people 
sat  about  on  the  rocky  ground,  or  on  straw  mats  in  their  grass 
houses,  apparently  with  nothing  at  all  to  do.  Some  naked  men 
were  swimming  in  the  ocean  catching  fish,  some  were  pounding 
poi.  With  these  exceptions,  I  saw  none  who  did  not  resem 
ble  Othello  in  the  matter  of  their  occupation  being  gone — that 
is,  if  they  ever  had  an  occupation  to  go. 

For  some  hours  the  Kinau  glided  along  on  a  smooth  sea, 
near  the  base  of  perpendicular  cliffs,  that  are  a  deep  green,  ex 
cept  where  a  silver  thread  of  water  trickles  down  here  and 
there  into  the  ocean.  Off  an  opening  in  the  huge  wall  the  lit 
tle  steamer  anchored,  and  landed  those  passengers  bound  for 
the  volcano  of  Kilauea.  To  one  accustomed  to  piers  and  still 
bays  the  landing  of  the  volcano  passengers  will  appear  a  sim 
ple  matter,  but  it  is  far  from  a  simple  matter  to  make  a  land 
ing  on  the  rocky  coast  of  Hawaii.  The  surf  dashes  high  on 
the  rocks.  It  seems  impossible  to  land.  It  would  be  impossi 
ble  for  any  one  but  a  Sandwich  Islander.  Those  amphibious 
beings,  never  daunted  by  heavy  swells,  pulled  lustily  towards 


TWO    VOLCANOES.  259 

the  shore.  When  within  twenty  yards  they  turned  their  boat 
broadside  to  the  sea.  I  thought  they  would  be  swamped;  but 
not  so.  Just  as  a  huge  wave  came  rolling  towards  us,  our 
dusky  boatman  at  the  stern  gave  a  twist  to  the  steering-oar 
and  brought  the  boat  sharp  against  the  roll,  and  we  were  car 
ried  on  the  crest  of  the  wave  high  and  dry  on  the  rocks. 

Fourteen  miles,  partly  across  lava-fields,  partly  through  for 
ests  bewilderingly  rank  with  tropical  vegetation,  brought  us  to 
the  Volcano  House,  situated  on  the  brink  of  the  largest  active 
volcano  in  the  world.  We  descended  into  a  vast  pit  five  hun 
dred  feet  deep,  traversed  three  miles  of  lava,  descended  several 
hundred  feet  into  a  second  pit,  and  at  last  stood  on  the  brink 
of  a  lake  of  fire,  the  veritable  hell  of  the  theologians.  It  was 
grand  by  day ;  by  night  it  was  awful.  The  surface  of  the  lake 
cools,  forming  a  black  scum.  This  grows  until  the  greater  part 
is  covered ;  then  there  is  a  mighty  upheaval.  The  black  scum 
cracks,  huge  floes  swim  for  a  moment,  then  rise  and  plunge  down 
into  the  seething  mass,  to  be  melted  again.  It  is  something 
similar  to  the  breaking  of  the  ice  on  the  Mississippi,  where 
huge  blocks  are  thrown  up,  crackling  against  each  other,  and 
then  are  swallowed  up  under  the  water;  only  here  the  blocks 
are  not  ice,  but  congealed  lava ;  and  after  grinding  with  horri 
ble  noise,  the  lava-blocks  roll  over,  and  are  swallowed  up  with 
loud  gurgles,  not  in  water,  but  in  hissing,  red-hot  fluid,  whether 
lava  or  iron,  or*  sulphur  such  as  Sheol  is  said  to  have,  I  do  not 
know. 

At  one  end  of  the  lake  is  a  subterranean  passage,  towards 
which  the  molten  "mass  tends  with  considerable  current.  The 
waves  dash  against  the  sides  with  wild  fury,  in  their  eagerness 
to  pass  on  to  the  awful  depths  below.  The  flames  fly  high  in 
the  air ;  the  surf  is  one  blaze  of  melted  lava.  At  the  same 
time,  in  various  parts  of  the  lake,  as  if  impatient  of  restraint, 
angry  and  urgent  to  rush  through  the  subterranean  passage, 
great  waves  of  lava  burst  into  the  air,  high  fountains  of  fire, 
making,  all  in  all,  the  most  awful  spectacle  our  earth  has  ever 
presented  to  man. 


260  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

While  we  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff  looking  down  on  the 
dreadful  scene,  there  broke  on  our  ears  a  sudden  crash  and 
roar,  and  we  saw  a  frightful  commotion  in  the  boiling  lake. 
About  an  acre  of  hardened  lava  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
crater  had  fallen  in.  We  had  walked  over  that  lava  not  twenty 
minutes  before.  If  that  side  cracked  and  tumbled  in,  why  not 
the  side  we  were  on  ?  I  felt  my  hair  jump  np  on  end  ;  and  the 
way  we  scampered  away  from  that  Sheol  was  a  sight  to  see. 

The  return  to  the  hotel  across  the  miles  of  lava  and  up  the 
steep  sides  of  the  crater  was  a  journey  of  great  fatigue.  One 
of  the  party  broke  down,  and  the  guide  remained  behind  to 
assist  ,him,  while  the  rest  of  us  pushed  on.  We  were  seven. 
With  our  long  rubber  ulsters,  our  lanterns  and  staves  and  pallid 
faces,  we  might  have  been  mistaken  for  escaped  devils  from  the 
burning  lake.  Some  one  discovered  that  we  were  off  the  trail. 
Each  of  us  started  off  to  find  it  again.  It  was  not  easily  done. 
Seven  lanterns  went  bobbing  about ;  seven  voices  every  few 
minutes  cried  out,  "  Here  it  is  !"  only  to  find  out  that  they 
were  mistaken.  The  situation  was  at  once  alarming  and  ridic 
ulous.  To  see  seven  persons  poking  about  with  lanterns  and 
staves  was  ridiculous  ;  it  was  alarming  when  we  thought  of  the 
fact  that  any  moment  might  find  us  on  lava  insufficiently  cooled, 
through  which  we  might  slide  down  into  some  horrible  subter 
ranean  furnace.  Dense  darkness  reigned  all  around  us.  The 
rain  fell  so  fast  and  so  thick  that  even  the  fierce  glow  of  the 
volcano,  two  miles  distant,  was  barely  visible.  We  called  a 
council  of  war,  and  decided  to  search  no  farther.  It  was  a 
miserable  prospect,  that  of  camping-out  on  the  lava  all  night  in 
a  drenching  rain,  but  it  was  safer  than  roaming  about  running 
such  chances  of  instant  and  awful  death.  We  sat  down,  a  clus 
ter  of  the  sorriest,  most  dejected  beings  I  ever  saw.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  we  were  actually  there — it  seemed  many  hours ; 
then  a  speck  of  light  passed  down  a  few  yards  away.  We 
yelled  in  chorus.  There  was  an  answer,  and  in  a  moment  the 
guide  and  the  invalid  of  the  party  were  with  us.  We  had  been 
all  the  while  within  ten  yards  of  the  trail.  This  time  we  did 


TWO   VOLCANOES. 


261 


not  try  to  go  it  alone.  We  stuck  close  by  the  guide,  and  by 
midnight  had  surmounted  the  lofty  walls  of  the  crater,  and 
were  once  more  beneath  the  friendly  roof  of  the  Volcano  House. 
The  loneliest  grave  I  ever  saw  was  that  of  a  tourist  who  died 
in  the  crater  in  1871.  He  fell  dead  of  heart  disease  just  at 


CRATER   OF   KILAUEA. 

the  close  of  the  fatiguing  journey.  He  lies  buried  in  the  crater, 
with  a  low  white  cross  to  mark  the  place,  only  a  short  distance 
from  the  ever-rumbling  fires  of  Kilauea.  Ever-rumbling?  That 
is  a  mistake.  On  the  6th  of  March,  1886,  Mr.  Maby,  who  keeps 
the  Volcano  House,  saw  no  fire  in  the  lake.  Investigation 
showed  that  the  lake  had  disappeared.  It  did  not  reappear 


262  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

until  the  first  of  the  following  June.  With  such  unimportant 
exceptions,  old  Kilauea's  fires  are  everlasting. 

Since  the  erection  of  the  Volcano  House,  twenty  odd  years 
ago,  a  register  of  visitors  has  been  kept.  I  made  an  estimate 
that  not  above  five  thousand  persons,  excluding  residents  of  the 
island,  have  seen  the  great  volcano  since  it  has  been  known  to 
the  civilized  world.  Visitors  are  requested  to  record  any  re 
markable  feature  of  the  lake  that  they  may  observe.  Here  are 
two  specimens  of  the  way  in  which  this  request  is  complied 
with,  showing  of  how  much  value  is  the  record  of  twenty  years. 
On  page  191,  vol.  i.,  dated  July  19,  1887,  Rev.  Chas.  Nugent, 
A.M.,  writes  his  name,  followed  by  these  words:  "Formerly 
of  Bridgeport,  Ohio.  My  home  is  commonly  located  in  San 
Jose,  California ;  though  as  to  residence,  though  not  a  Method 
ist,  I  am  somewhat  like  the  man  who  thought  he  had  no  native 
place  because  his  father  was  a  Methodist  preacher.  For  the 
past  year,  I  have  resided  at  Poauhau,  Hawaii." 

How  thrilling  is  this  entry !  how  replete  with  scientific  in 
formation  concerning  the  volcano  !  My  second  extract  is  by 
Miss  Bird,  who  wrote  a  book  about  the  Sandwich  Islands : 
"  Isabella  Lucy  Bird,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Bird,  Rec 
tor  of  Wighton,  Huntingdonshire,  and  Canon  of  Chester  Cathe 
dral.  Last  from  Auckland,  New  Zealand,  and  arrived  yesterday 
from  Hilo,  after  a  ride  of  eleven  and  a  half  hours." 

If  any  one  has  written  anything  interesting  or  valuable  in 
these  registers,  I  failed  to  find  it.  The  above  two  specimens 
are  fair  samples  of  the  whole.  The  "writers  of  all  the  others 
that  I  saw,  like  these  two,  used  the  opportunity  to  give  their 
personal  histories  —  as  if  strangers  care  to  know  the  hour  of 
their  arrival,  their  pedigree,  etc. 

An  Englishman  of  our  party,  possibly  a  little  jealous  for  the 
fame  of  Old  England  that  it  was  not  blessed  with  a  volcano  to 
rival  this,  declared  that  he  had  seen  better  fireworks  in  Lon 
don,  "  don't  you  know !"  This  reminded  me  of  the  Scotchman 
from  the  village  of  Peebles  who  said,  "  London  is  a  fine  toon, 
and  Paris  is  a  great  city,  but  for  pure  pleasure  give  me  Pee- 


TWO    VOLCANOES.  263 

bles !"  Mr.  Maby,  the  manager  of  the  Volcano  House,  is  a  re 
markably  fine-looking  man.  He  was  once  a  circus  acrobat ; 
then  he  married  a  Kanaka  woman,  and  settled  down  on  one  of 
the  loneliest  and  grandest  spots  on  the  earth.  Two  hundred 
yards  from  his  house  steam  and  sulphur  fumes  come  hissing 
through  cracks  in  the  mountain.  A  sweat-bath  is  erected  over 
one  of  these  fissures.  I  sat  in  this  bath,  and  was  steamed  with 
sulphur  fumes  direct  from  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth. 

Kilauea  is  entirely  different  from  Vesuvius.  The  latter,  I 
think,  realizes  the  idea  that  most  school-boys  have  of  mount 
ains — a  cone  running  up  into  a  sharp  peak.  Vesuvius  rises 
four  thousand  feet  above  the  Bay  of  Naples.  The  summit  is 
not  above  fifty  yards  in  diameter.  I  once  passed  the  night 
there,  catching  occasional  glimpses  of  the  boiling  lava  in  the 
crater.  Blocks  of  stone  are  discharged,  and  thrown  up  to  a 
great  height,  every  few  moments  at  Vesuvius.  At  Kilauea 
there  is  no  danger  from  this  source.  There  are  no  loud  dis 
charges,  no  blocks  of  red-hot  lava  flying  through  the  air.  There 
is  only  a  stormy  lake,  with  dashing  waves  that  can  be  viewed 
from  points  of  comparative  safety.  On  the  return  voyage  from 
Hawaii,  the  place  is  passed  where,  in  January,  1886,  streams  of 
lava  gushed  over  the  green  cliffs  into  the  sea.  The  crater  of 
the  volcano  Manna  Loa,  after  a  long  period  of  quiescence,  had 
broken  out  suddenly,  and  the  streams  of  lava  that  poured  down 
the  sides  of  the  mountain  fell  over  the  bluffs  in  such  a  mass 
that  the  water  of  the  ocean  for  a  considerable  distance  around 
became  almost  boiling  hot.  Hundreds  of  people  came  from 
Honolulu  to  witness  the  sublime  spectacle. 


264  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

AN    ISLAND    OF    LEPERS. 

WRETCHES  BANISHED  FROM  THE  WORLD  ;  THEY  DIG  THEIR  OWN 
GRAVES,  AND  GIVE  "COFFIN  SOCIABLES"  TO  RAISE  FUNDS  WHERE 
WITH  TO  PURCHASE  COFFINS.  —  FIGHT  WITH  A  SHARK. — AH  FOO'S 
EXPANSIVE  FAMILY. 

THE  steerage  of  the  Kinau  reminded  me  of  the  steerage  of 
a  vessel  in  which  I  once  travelled  from  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor 
to  Odessa,  Russia.  The  natives  sat,  or  rather  squatted,  on  the 
deck  for  hours  at  a  time  ;  a  civilized  man  could  not  sit  in  such 
a  position  thirty  minutes.  The  Kanakas  spread  their  coarse 
mats  on  the  deck  and  slept,  when  they  were  not  smoking  or 
playing  the  taro-patch  fiddle — the  national  instrument  of  Ha 
waii.  I  spoke  to  a  girl  decorated  with  a  leis  of  plumerias  ;  she 
looked  very  handsome,  with  her  flashing  eyes.  "  I  like  the 
hula  dance,"  she  said,  "  because  it  is  our  dance.  But  it  is  not 
like  your  waltz.  You  would  call  it  vulgar."  I  shall  speak  of 
the  "  hula"  presently ;  the  reader  may  decide  whether  or  not  it 
is  "  vulgar."  Whenever  the  steamer  stopped,  the  natives  in  the 
steerage  stood  at  the  railing  to  catch  "  alalauwa,"  a  fish  much 
liked,  and  eaten  raw.  As  fast  as  the  lines  were  dropped  into 
the  water  the  fish  bit.  In  ten  minutes  a  bucketful  were  caught, 
which  forthwith  the  dark-skinned  fishermen  opened  and  ate  raw. 

At  Hilo,  Ululani,  the  Governess  of  Hawaii,  got  aboard,  ac 
companied  by  her  body-guard,  consisting  of  one  dapper  little 
policeman  dressed  in  uniform  of  white  duck.  The  Governess, 
a  great  fat,  coarse  woman,  dowdily  dressed  in  a  cheap  cotton 
gown,  was  formerly  one  of  King  Kalakaua's  household.  When 
his  Majesty  tired  of  her,  he  appointed  her  Governess  of 
Hawaii,  with  a  snug  salary  of  $2000  a  year. 

At  Mahukona  the  Kinau  stopped  for  a  day,  and  a  party  of 


AN    ISLAND    OF   LEPERS.  265 

us  took  the  narrow-gauge  road  for  a  ride  along  the  cliffs  over 
looking  the  ocean.  The  Hawaiian  Government  subsidized  the 
road,  paying  so  much  a  mile,  and  the  builders,  taking  example 
from  the  builders  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railway,  made  the  road  as 
long  as  they  could,  so  as  to  get  all  the  subsidy  possible.  They 
will  doubtless  straighten  the  road  out  after  a  while,  as  did  the 
Union  Pacific  people  when  the  Government  was  squeezed  of  all 
its  subsidy.  At  the  end  of  the  line,  twenty  miles  from  Mahu- 
kona,  we  took  horses  for  a  plantation  five  miles  distant.  On 
the  way  was  passed  first  a  roller-skating  rink,  then  a  statue  of 
the  great  Kamehameha,  the  Hawaiian  chief  who  conquered  the 
neighboring  islands  and  founded  the  present  dynasty.  This 
statue,  made  in  Munich,  was  sunk  off  the  Falkland  Islands,  on 
its  way  from  Europe.  For  a  long  time  it  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean  ;  then  it  was  fished  up  and  brought  to  this  spot 
overlooking  the  place  whence  the  savage  chief  started  for 
Maui  on  his  voyage  of  conquest.  Within  a  short  distance  of 
the  statue  is  a  temple  where  Kamehameha  offered  sacrifices  of 
warriors  before  starting.  This  temple  consists  of  a  circular 
wall  ten  feet  high.  It  is  said  to  have  been  built  in  one  day,  a 
line  of  men  several  miles  long  passing  the  stones  from  one 
to  another  from  the  hills  where  the  stones  lay  to  the  site  of 
the  temple.  It  is  quite  a  change  from  human  sacrifices  seventy 
years  ago  to  the  railroads  and  skating-rinks  of  to-day. 

The  coffee  plantation  that  we  visited  was  like  the  generality 
of  Hawaiian  plantations — a  small  strip  of  land  that  extended 
up  the  side  of  a  mountain,  affording  a  soil  that  is  neither  too 
wet  nor  too  dry.  The  strips  are  usually  owned  by  natives. 
They  pick  the  berry,  in  size  and  color  like  a  red  -cherry,  carry 
it  to  their  grass  huts,  and  there,  with  a  hammer  or  club,  pound 
off  the  outer  husk,  and  lay  the  berry  on  their  mats  as  we  see 
it,  to  dry  in  the  sun.  Half  a  million  pounds  of  coffee  are  pro 
duced  by  the  natives  every  year  on  these  narrow  strips  of  land. 

On  arriving  at  Honolulu,  I  rode  to  the  celebrated  Pali  preci 
pice.  The  way  thither  leads  first  through  the  beautiful  suburbs 
of  Honolulu,  then  winds  up  a  high  mountain,  and  through 
12 


266  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

brushwood  so  tangled  and  interwoven  that  the  light  hardly 
penetrates  it.  As  the  road  winds  upward,  the  mountains  be 
come  steeper  and  steeper,  their  sides  a  deeper  and  richer  green, 
except  here  and  there  where  silver  lines  of  water  trickle  down 
the  soft  moss-covered  precipices — ribbons  of  water  which  seern 
to  drop  out  of  the  clouds  that  always  hang  over  the  mountain 
of  the  Pali.  The  view  from  the  summit  of  the  Pali  bursts 
upon  one  suddenly,  disclosing,  two  thousand  feet  below,  the 
greenest  valley  on  earth ;  beyond  are  the  sea  and  the  coral 
reefs  and  foaming  breakers.  A  steep  and  dizzy  trail  winds 
from  the  summit  to  the  enchanting  valley.  My  eyes  followed 
a  long  train  of  pack-mules,  as  they  toiled  up,  laden  with  huge 
burdens  of  rice.  It  is  near  this  giddy  height,  overlooking  the 
ocean,  that  the  old  Hawaiian  chiefs  were  formerly  buried.  The 
chiefs  wished  the  place  of  their  graves  unknown.  It  was  the 
custom  to  let  a  man  over  the  precipice  by  a  rope.  When  he 
had  found  a  resting-place  for  the  chief's  bones,  and  had  safely 
stowed  them  away,  the  rope  was  cut,  dropping  the  miserable 
man  into  the  ocean  hundreds  of  feet  below,  where  he  could 
never  tell  the  evil  spirits  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  chiefs  last 
resting-place.  Hawaii  has  improved  since  those  days.  Return 
ing  from  the  Pali,  you  pass  the  royal  mausoleum,  a  solid  struct 
ure  of  stone  which  holds  the  bodies  of  all  the  kings  .and  mem 
bers  of  the  royal  family  who  have  died  since  the  practice  of 
concealing  royal  graves  in  the  savage  manner  alluded  to  was 
abandoned. 

Of  the  many  picturesque  and  beautiful  residences  passed  on 
the  return  from  the  Pali,  the  driver  singled  out  one  and  said, 

"That  is  the  home  of  a  Chinaman." 

This  added  to  its  interest,  and  I  looked  again  at  the  broad 
verandas,  the  bright-colored  cupolas,  the  cocoanut  and  palm 
trees,  and  the  rich  array  of  flowers. 

"  He  is  rich  in  more  ways  than  one,"  continued  the  driver. 
"  He  has  seven  daughters." 

When  I  returned  to  the  hotel  I  told  Smith,  a  fellow-guest, 
of  my  trip  to  the  Pali. 


AN    ISLAND    OF    LEPERS.  267 

"Ah,"  said  Smith,  "then  yon  must  have  passed  the  house 
of  Ah  Foo.  A  wonderful  Chinaman — has  eleven  daughters." 

A  few  minutes  later  I  saw  the  hotel  clerk. 

"Been  out  to  the  Pali,  eh?  Did  you  see  Ah  Foo's  house? 
The  richest  Chinaman  in  the  islands;  a  wonderful  big  family, 
too  ;  has  fourteen  daughters." 

Ah  Foo's  family  seemed  to  be  increasing  with  alarming 
rapidity.  To  the  next  acquaintance  I  met  I  said  nothing  of 
my  Pali  trip,  and  so  doubtless  spared  the  unlucky  heathen  an 
other  addition  to  his  already  overgrowing  family. 

The  amphibiousness  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders  is  well  known. 
I  saw  an  old  Kanaka  with  no  arms. 

"  Shark  bit  'em  off,"  he  said.  "  I  lost  my  knife,  so,  when 
he  came  after  me,  I  dived  under,  hitting  him  a  blow  on  the 
snout  as  I  dived.  They  are  very  tender  on  the  nose.  The 
blow  stunned  him,  and  I  swam  on  a  few  yards ;  then  he  came 
at  me  again,  and  again  I  dove  under  and  hit  him  on  the  nose. 
I  kept  this  up  until,  by  an  unlucky  miss,  my  fist  ran  into  his 
mouth  instead  of  against  his  nose,  and  off  went  my  arm.  The 
other  arm  went  off  just  as  the  surf  rolled  me  on  the  shore. 
My  brother  came  running  down  to  the  beach.  Seeing  what 
had  happened,  he  put  his  knife  between  his  teeth  and  plunged 
into  the  surf.  In  an  hour  he  came  back  with  the  head  of  the 
shark,  and  laid  it  at  my  feet.  You  want  to  see  a  shark?  My 
boy  Paluhi  is  going  to  take  into  the  water  an  old  horse  that 
died  this  morning  of  pink-eye.  You  go  with  him,  and  you  will 
see  plenty  shark." 

The  coral  reef  runs  within  an  eighth  of  a  mile  of  the  shore. 
Paluhi  got  ready  his  canoe,  which  had  a  curious  contrivance  to 
prevent  it  from  capsizing.  The  trees  in  Hawaii  are  small ; 
consequently,  the  canoes  are  rarely  more  than  a  foot  wide.  At 
each  end  of  the  canoe  is  a  curved  stick,  standing  out  at  right 
angles  from  the  canoe.  To  these  two  sticks  is  fastened  a  long 
pole  parallel  with  the  canoe,  and  about  three  feet  from  its  side, 
which  serves  to  balance  the  craft.  We  paddled  across  the  reef, 
and  there  floated  about  for  some  minutes  without  seeing  a  shark. 


268  THE    TKAMP    AT    HOME. 

"  No  sharks  arc  here,"  I  said. 

Faluhi  grinned.     "You  wait." 

Stooping  over  the  stern  of  the  canoe,  he  cut  the  throat  of 
the  dead  horse ;  the  water  around  crimsoned,  and  almost  im 
mediately  I  saw  scudding  towards  us  the  fin  of  a  shark.  In  the 
clear,  blue  sea  I  could  see  the  monster  as  he  swam  under  us, 
and  as  he  turned  on  his  back  ready  to  bite  his  prey.  Just  as 
he  was  making  a  lunge  for  one  of  the  horse's  hind-legs,  Pa- 
luhi,  who  was  ready  for  him,  hurled  his  harpoon.  A  struggle 
ensued.  But  for  our  balancing-pole  we  should  certainly  have 
been  overturned,  and  most  likely  eaten  by  the  huge  and  angry 
beast.  The  harpoon,  a  sharp  iron  barb  a  foot  long,  was  buried 
deep  in  his  body.  His  struggles  grew  rapidly  fainter,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  the  Kanaka  was  able  to  draw  him  up  and  stab 
him  with  his  sharp  knife.  By  this  time  half  a  dozen  sharks 
were  swimming  about,  fighting  over  the  dead  horse.  Paluhi 
cut  the  rope  that  held  the  horse,  and  letting  him  drift  to  sea, 
we  plunged  through  the  breakers  across  the  reef,  towing  the 
dead  shark,  and  followed  by  several  small  fellows  who  were 
anxious  to  make  a  meal  on  their  deceased  brother.  A  Kanaka 
armed  with  a  good  knife  has  no  fear  of  a  shark.  Within  the 
reef  Paluhi  gave  a  thrilling  exhibition  of  Kanaka  skill. 

"  Hi,  hi !"  he  yelled,  and  sprang  into  the  water.  A  monster, 
who  was  on  the  point  of  biting  at  the  dead  shark,  seeing  a  foe 
was  after  him,  turned  on  Paluhi.  The  slim,  brown  body  of 
the  boy  and  the  huge  body  of  the  shark  were  plainly  visible 
under  the  water.  I  shuddered  at  the  uneven  contest,  the  beast 
looked  so  much  more  powerful  than  the  man,  a  youth  of  only 
eighteen.  Paluhi  waited  until  the  shark  turned,  then  coolly 
dived  under,  and  with  a  dexterous  lunge  ripped  open  the  belly 
of  his  foe.  In  another  instant  he  was  on  the  surface  again, 
grinning,  and  holding  aloft  his  bloody  knife. 

Thirty  years  ago  there  was  one  case  of  leprosy  in  the  Ha 
waiian  Islands ;  now  about  two  per  cent,  of  the  native  popu 
lation  are  afflicted  with  this  terrible  disease.  In  Honolulu  I 
learned  that — 


AX    ISLAND    OF    LEPERS.  269 

1,  Leprosy  is  hereditary;  2,  that  it  is  not  hereditary;  3,  that 
it  is  contagions ;  4,  that  it  is  not  contagions ;  5,  that  it  is  cura 
ble  ;  6,  that  it  is  not  curable.  And  last,  but  not  least,  I  learned 
that  no  one  knows  anything  about  it  except  that,  whereas  forty 
years  ago  it  was  unknown  on  the  islands,  it  is  now  the  scourge 
of  the  nation. 

I  procured  a  letter  marked,  "  On  His  Majesty's  service,"  per 
mitting  me  to  go  through  the  Lepers'  Hospital,  where,  in  small 
white  cottages,  surrounded  by  green  gardens  overlooking  the 
sea,  the  most  miserable  of  humankind  wait  their  death.  I  saw 
one  poor  girl  who  had  been  brought  in  only  the  day  before. 
She  lay  on  a  pallet  weeping.  The  nun  in  charge  told  her  not 
to  cry,  but  the  unhappy  creature  could  not  be  consoled.  She 
was  a  comely,  intelligent  girl,  apparently  in  a  healthy  condition. 
A  slight  swelling  of  the  lingers  showed  the  presence  of  the 
dreadful  disease.  She  was  an  outcast  from  her  home  and 
friends.  In  a  few  years  her  fingers  will  taper  down  to  the 
bone,  and  finally  drop  off.  Her  head  will  swell  to  bursting. 
She  will  suffer  a  thousand  deaths. 

Another  pitiable  case  was  that  of  a  mother  in  whom  taints 
were  just  discovered.  I  saw  her  parting  from  her  husband  and 
child.  A  close  grating  divided  them.  She  could  not  even 
touch  her  child,  though  longing  to  press  it  to  her  heart  before 
bidding  it  an  eternal  farewell.  Other  miserable  wretches  were 
also  at  the  grating,  bidding  their  friends  good-by  before  being 
taken  to  the  island  of  Molokai,  to  remain  until  death.  One  of 
these  was  a  Philadelphia!!,  a  young  man  who  seemed  to  me  to  be 
in  excellent  health ;  but  the  practised  eye  of  the  physician  de 
tected  the  taints  upon  him,  and  signed  his  sentence  of  banish 
ment.  Molokai,  where  he  will  pass  the  balance  of  his  miserable 
existence,  is  an  island,  selected  twenty  years  ago  as  the  most 
suitable  place  to  which  to  banish  the  unfortunates  who  com 
mit  no  crime,  yet  are  more  dangerous  to  society  than  the  worst 
criminals.  The  island  is  divided  into  two  parts  by  a  precip 
itous  bluff  two  thousand  feet  high.  This  high  rampart  cannot 
be  scaled.  The  sea  girts  the  settlement  on  all  other  sides.  The 


270  THE   TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

lepers  can  see  a  dim  outline  of  Honolulu,  but  that  is  all.  Once 
sent  to  Molokai,  they  remain  until  death.  Each  leper  is  fur 
nished  with  seven  pounds  of  fresh  or  salt  meat  per  week,  twen 
ty-one  pounds  of  bread  or  poi  or  rice,  as  may  be  preferred,  and 
one  pound  of  sugar.  Five  pounds  of  salt  and  a  bar  of  soap  are 
allowed  once  a  month.  When  the  Queen  visited  the  island  a 
year  ago,  one  of  the  lepers,  acting  as  spokesman  for  himself 
and  his  brethren,  said, 

"  Of  the  seven  pounds  of  beef,  five  are  often  made  up  of 
bone.  This  is  enough  for  one  person  for  only  three  days.  The 
rest  of  the  week  he  goes  without  meat.  Some  have  to  travel 
five  miles  for  their  rations.  Those  who  are  feeble  and  half- 
decomposed  cannot  go  so  far,  or  are  too  wearied  to  prepare 
the  food  after  they  have  packed  it  across  the  rough  roads  and 
gulches  to  their  huts." 

The  main  body  of  the  lepers  live  in  huts  provided  by  them 
selves.  In  a  hut  ten  by  eight  feet,  four  lepers  were  living.  This 
hut  was  made  of  pandanus-leaves,  and  covered  with  a  thatch  of 
ferns  and  sugar-cane  blades.  While  the  King  draws  a  large  sal 
ary  and  plays  poker,  the  poor  creatures  on  Molokai  drag  out  a 
horrible  and  half-starved  existence.  They  drop  into  the  grave 
by  degrees ;  first  a  finger,  then  a  hand,  then  an  arm,  and  so  on. 
When  the  end  of  this  disintegrating  process  is  near  at  hand, 
the  patient  is  required  to  dig  his  own  grave.  If  any  leper  re 
fuses  to  dig  his  grave  when  called  on  to  do  that  duty,  he  is 
refused  his  weekly  rations.  Nothing  is  more  pitiable  than  to 
see  a  man  with  only  stumps  of  arms  engaged  in  digging  his 
own  grave  in  a  hard,  rocky  soil. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  complaints  of  the  lepers  on  this 
score  were  not  unreasonable.  They  object,  also,  to  paying  for 
their  own  coffins.  Their  objections,  however,  have  so  far  been 
without  avail ;  and  occasionally  they  give,  as  is  shown  by  the 
register  of  the  hospital,  "  coffin  feasts,"  or  sociables,  to  raise 
money  to  buy  coffins,  which  the  Government  will  furnish  only 
upon  the  payment  of  two  dollars  each. 

In  1866,  Father  Damien,  a  Belgian  priest,  voluntarily  exiled 


AN  ISLAND   OF   LEPERS.  27 1 

himself  upon  Molokai  to  minister  to  the  wants,  spiritual  and 
physical,  of  the  patients  there.  He,  of  course,  caught  the  dis 
ease,  and  is  still  living  with  them,  though  in  an  advanced  stage 
of  leprosy.  There  are  many  instances  where  wives  and  hus 
bands  accompany  their  afflicted  spouses,  thus  consigning  them 
selves  to  living  death.  That  of  Kaaukau,  mentioned  in  an  of 
ficial  report,  shows  the  devotedness  of  some  of  this  affectionate 
race.  She  was  perfectly  healthy,  her  husband  was  a  leper.  He 
was  condemned  by  the  Board  of  Health  to  exile  on  the  island  of 
Molokai.  For  four  years  the  devoted  wife  put  every  particle  of 
his  food  into  his  mouth.  He  begged  her  to  leave  his  wretched 
carcass,  and  to  return  to  the  world  and  to  her  friends.  She  re 
fused,  and  remained  with  him  until  he  literally  rotted  away. 
Many  of  the  patients  prefer  living  in  grass  huts  by  the  sea, 
where  they  can  eke  out  their  scanty  rations  by  fishing. 

Some  years  ago  a  medical  expert  was  sent  by  the  Hawaiian 
Government  on  a  tour  of  investigation  around  the  world.  He 
visited  places  in  China  and  other  countries  afflicted  with  leprosy. 

"  The  Chinese,"  says  this  expert,  "  believing  leprosy  conta 
gious,  have  an  unspeakable  horror  of  it,  .and  act  with  the  ut 
most  inhumanity  towards  those  afflicted  with  the  disease.  Par 
ents  consign  their  children,  and  children  their  parents,  to  walled 
villages,  which  are  the  usual  appendages  of  cities  in  southern 
China.  These  dreadful  places  of  misery  are  so  horrible  that 
many  commit  suicide  to  avoid  entering  them.  The  disorder  is 
first  manifested  by  a  red  spot  appearing  sometimes  on  the  leg, 
but  usually  on  the  face.  This  spreads  to  a  round  patch  or  in 
irregular  streaks.  The  skin  begins  to  thicken,  and  looks  as  if 
stretched ;  sometimes  it  is  smooth  and  shiny.  The  lobes  of  the 
ear  become  small.  As  the  disease  advances,  the  hair  and  eye 
brows  fall  off,  the  tendons  of  the  hands  and  feet  contract ;  final 
ly  slow  ulceration  sets  in,  destroying  the  flesh  and  bones  of 
the  fingers  and  toes,  leaving  nothing  but  the  stumps.  A  leper 
settlement  two  miles  from  the  suburbs  of  Canton,  on  a  slight 
eminence,  in  the  midst  of  cultivated  fields,  accommodates  five 
hundred  lepers,  with  their  children,  born  in  the  asylum.  All 


272  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

persons  recognized  as  lepers  are  sent  to  these  asylums,  of  which 
there  are  three  in  the  suburbs  of  Canton.  Neither  husband, 
wife,  nor  children  are  allowed  to  accompany  the  leper  to  the 
asylum,  but  they  are  allowed  to  choose  for  themselves  new  con 
jugal  mates  from  among  the  inmates  of  the  same.  The  chil 
dren  born  of  these  unions  remain  in  the  village.  The  village 
forms  a  rectangle,  surrounded  by  a  brick  wall  twelve  feet  high, 
with  a  gate,  which  is  closed  at  night.  Within  the  wall  a  street 
fourteen  feet  wide — wider  than  a  street  in  Canton — leads  to 
the  temple,  or  joss-house.  From  this  street  branch  out  narrow 
lanes  three  and  a  half  feet  wide.  Each  two  lanes  are  separated 
by  one  low  building,  which  is  partitioned  by  a  wall  along  its 
whole  length,  and  divided  into  twenty-four  apartments.  In 
these  small  holes  that  entire  mass  of  population  is  stowed 
away  every  night.  During  the  day  the  gate  is  opened,  and 
the  lepers  roam  about  at  liberty  to  beg  through  the  streets  of 
Canton.  They  receive,  besides,  a  small  daily  allowance  from 
the  Government,  and  the  monopoly  of  the  trade  of  coir-rope 
making." 

From  this  extract  from  the  report  of  the  Hawaiian  special 
agent,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  Chinese  do  not  regard  the  dis 
ease  as  very  contagious.  On  the  Sandwich  Islands  opinions 
differ ;  still,  the  contagious  idea  prevails,  and  lepers  are  ban 
ished  to  the  lonely  and  horrible  island  of  Molokai  as  soon  as 
they  are  known  to  be  afflicted.  At  the  beginning  of  every 
school  term  a  physician  examines  all  the  scholars.  If  any  are 
lepers,  they  are  immediately  banished.  If  only  suspected,  they 
are  sent  to  the  Kapiolani  Home.  I  saw  in  that  place  of  pro 
bation  a  score  of  children  who  seemed  as  sound  and  healthy  as 
any  one,  but  they  were  "  suspects,"  and  will  remain  in  deten 
tion  until  it  is  certain  that  they  are  not  lepers.  As  this  may 
take  years  to  determine,  it  may  be  imagined  how  unpleasant  it 
is  to  be  even  suspected  of  having  the  disease.  In  the  hospital 
adjoining  the  Kapiolani  Home  are  one  hundred  and  four  lep 
ers  awaiting  transportation  to  Molokai.  The  visitor  must  be 
careful  to  brush  away  mosquitoes  and  flies  when  in  this  place. 


AN    ISLAND    OF    LEPJ&RS.  273 

A  mosquito,  by  stinging  your  hand  just  after  biting  a  leper, 
could  communicate  the  malady.  If  this  point  be  carefully  at 
tended  to,  there  is  little  risk  in  making  a  tour  of  inspection. 
Those  patients  just  arrived,  and  those  in  the  incipient  stages, 
seem  to  feel  their  unhappy  positions  very  keenly.  One  of  two 
women  sitting  side  by  side  was  only  twenty  years  old,  but 
looked  eighty.  Her  face  was  bloated,  and  horrible  with  ulcers. 
The  other  woman  was  young,  and  apparently  in  excellent  health. 
This  woman  was  in  the  depths  of  despair ;  her  bloated  com 
panion  was  talkative  and  jolly,  and  wanted  to  know  how  the 
King's  birthday  celebration  was  progressing. 

Nothing  is  more  heart-rending  than  the  scene  which  occurs 
when  the  boat  starts  for  Molokai.  The  friends  assemble  to 
take  a  last  look,  and  to  say  a  last  good-by.  Tears  stream  down 
the  faces  of  the  exiles,  and  of  the  mothers  and  children  left 
behind ;  the  boat  pushes  off  amid  weeping  and  wailing  and 
cries  of  despair,  carrying  the  poor  wretches  to  their  living  isl 
and-tomb.  On  the  day  of  my  visit,  two  lepers  had  managed  to 
hide  themselves.  The  officers  looked  high  and  low.  At  last 
they  were  discovered  secreted  under  the  house,  whence  they 
were  punched  out  with  long  poles  and  sent  off  with  the  rest. 
A  law  makes  it  permissible  to  offer  condemned  criminals  the 
choice  of  immediate  death,  or  inoculation  with  leprosy,  for  the 
purpose  of  affording  medical  observations.  I  heard  of  but  one 
case  where  the  latter  alternative  was  accepted.  The  unhappy 
man  was  inoculated  with  the  dread  disease,  and  thus  subjected 
to  a  hundred  deaths  instead  of  one.  He  was  carefully  attend 
ed  and  studied  by  the  physicians  as  he  gradually  dropped  to 
pieces,  becoming  first  a  mere  stump,  and  finally  a  corpse. 
12* 


274  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

BANQUETING   WITH    A    KING. 

ROYALTY'S  HULA-HULA  GIRLS  AND  THEIR  VOLUPTUOUS  DANCES. — 
TROPICAL  ORGIES. — A  PIG  STUFFED  WITH  THREE  HUNDRED  THOU 
SAND  SILVER  DIMES.— WHY  THE  CAUCASIANS  REVOLTED.  — TRAV 
ELLERS  NOT  ALLOWED  TO  LEAVE  THE  KINGDOM  UNTIL  THEIR 
DEBTS  ARE  PAID. 

HONOLULU  is  well  supplied  with  newspapers.  There  are 
three  dailies  printed  in  the  English  language,  three  in  the  Ha 
waiian,  two  English  weeklies,  one  Portuguese  weekly,  and 
three  monthly  magazines.  There  was  formerly  a  weekly  story- 
paper  on  the  plan  of  the  New  York  Ledger,  printed  in  Ha 
waiian  ;  but  that  is  not  now  published.  The  Pae  Aina,  one  of 
the  Hawaiian  dailies,  has  a  weekly  circulation  of  four  thousand 
six  hundred  copies.  The  natives  are  fond  of  reading.  Most 
of  them  can  write  as  well  as  read.  The  Government  schools 
are  free,  and  well  attended.  Most  of  the  papers  just  mentioned 
are  published  by  one  company,  which  also  publishes  books.  A 
work  just  out  from  their  press  at  the  time  of  my  visit  was  a 
book  by  the  Prime-minister  on  the  volcanoes  of  the  islands. 
The  Hawaiian  Minister  advances  the  theory  that  the  crust  of 
the  earth  is  about  twenty  miles  thick,  and  that  within  the  huge 
ball  is  nothing  but  a  vast  mass  of  gas,  vapor,  and  molten  lava. 
That  the  earth  is  a  hollow  ball  does  not  seem  improbable ;  but 
I  do  not  understand  how  the  Premier  determines  the  thickness 
of  the  crust  with  such  precision.  Twenty  miles  is  rather  a  thin 
crust  for  so  large  a  ball  as  this  globe  of  ours. 

It  was  in  Honolulu  that  I  first  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing, 
and  dining  with,  a  king.  I  had  become  acquainted  with  two 
intimate  friends  of  the  King,  and  one  afternoon  we  all  three 
jumped  into  a  carriage,  and  were  driven  to  the  outskirts  of  the 


[TJJTIVERSITY; 


BANQUETING   WITH   A   KING.  277 

town  to  a  house  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  out  on  the  sea,  built 
on  piles.  As  we  drew  nearer,  a  sentinel  eyed  our  party  close 
ly;  but  recognizing  my  companions,  permitted  us  to  pass  in. 
We  ascended  a  narrow  stair-way,  and  entered  a  large  hall,  the 
windows  at  both  ends  of  which  look  out  over  the  sea.  Stand 
ing  in  this  hall,  we  saw^a  large,  fat,  mulatto  man,  with  kinky 
hair,  and  dressed  in  a  suit  of  white  flannel,  receiving  visitors. 

"Your  Majesty,  permit  me  to  introduce  to  you  Mr.  Meri- 
wethcr,"  said  my  friend,  the  sugar-planter. 

His  Majesty  graciously  shook  my  hand,  and  then  began  to 
chat  in  a  friendly  way  with  the  two  sugar-planters.  Visitors 
entered,  among  them  the  officers  of  an  American  war-vessel 
then  in  the  harbor.  On  the  walls  were  portraits  of  all  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe,  brother  kings  to  our  kinky-headed 
Hawaiian  King.  There  were  several  tables  in  the  hall,  at  which 
some  of  the  guests  seated  themselves,  first  being  adorned  with 
the  leis  around  the  neck  by  attendants.  Little  piles  of  red  and 
blue  chips  were  stacked  on  the  tables,  and  the  gentlemen  be 
gan  to  play,  not  forgetting,  whenever  they  addressed  the  fat 
mulatto,  to  "Sire"  him  and  "Your  Majesty  "  him  in  the  most 
approved  courtly  style. 

\\7hile  this  free-and-easy  game  of  poker  was  going  on  in  the 
presence  of  Majesty,  a  curious  show  began.  A  troupe  of  men 
with  guitars  came  in  from  an  adjoining  room,  followed  by  sever 
al  small  boys,  and  by  a  bevy  of  young  girls  wearing  short  white 
skirts.  The  men  seated  themselves  on  one  side,  and  began  to 
play  and  sing  a  slow,  melancholy  ode.  The  girls  in  white 
robes — some  of  them  quite  pretty — advanced  to  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  poker-tables  and  began  to  dance  to  the  melody  of 
the  murmuring  guitars.  This  was  the  hula-hula  dance,  once 
the  national  dance  of  the  natives,  but  now  forbidden  by  law, 
and  only  indulged  in  by  the  King,  who  here,  as  in  most  king 
doms,  is  above  the  law.  I  sat  apart,  by  turns  watching  the 
hula-hula  girls  and  the  poker-players.  The  latter  were  too  deep 
ly  interested  to  give  more  than  a  momentary  attention  to  the 
dancers.  At  first  the  motions  of  the  dancers  were  rhythmic 


278  THE    TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

and  pleasing,  but  as  they  proceeded  the  character  became  more 
and  more  voluptuous,  until  the  bounds  of  decency  were  passed. 
The  coarse,  fat  King  showed  his  appreciation  and  pleasure  in 
the  exhibition.  His  ugly  eyes  dilated.  Thrusting  his  hands 
into  his  pockets,  he  pulled  out  a  roll  of  silver  dollars  and  threw 
them,  with  a  clatter,  at  the  dancers'  feet.  The  little  boy  at 
tendants  hopped  about  picking  up  the  dollars.  Now  and  then 
the  players  turned  a  moment  from  their  play  to  look  at  the 
hula -hula  girls  and  throw  them  silver  coin.  Attendants  in 
white  uniforms  stood  around,  to  wait  on  the  King  and  his 
guests.  After  four  hours  spent  in  this  way,  all  retired  from 
the  gaming-tables,  to  participate  in  a  banquet  that  was  like  or 
dinary  banquets,  except  that  a  live  king  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
board.  By  each  plate  was  a  bowl,  made  of  a  cocoanut,  filled 
with  poi,  a  national  dish  for  which  I  had  no  relish.  After  an 
hour's  feasting,  his  mulatto  Majesty  and  guests  went  back  to 
the  gaming-tables,  and  the  hula-hula  girls  reappeared. 

While  this  figure-head  king  plays  poker  and  throw's  silver 
dollars  at  dancing-girls'  feet,  a  few  Americans  and  Englishmen 
administer  the  government  of  the  country.  The  ministers  are 
paid  $3000  or  $4000  a  year;  the  King  gets  $25,000,  besides  a 
palace  to  live  in,  and  other  perquisites.  King  Kalakaua,  when  in 
Europe,  was  received  as  a  brother  by  the  crowned  heads.  Mr. 
Thurston,  or  Mr.  Green,  or  any  of  the  other  men  who  actually 
carry  on  the  government,  would  not  be  admitted  through  the 
back  door  of  European  monarchs.  The  revolutionists  of  last 
July  carefully  considered  the  question  of  deposing  the  king 
and  establishing  a  republic.  A  long  debate  resulted  in  re 
taining  Kalakaua  as  a  figure-head,  it  being  argued  that  the  ex 
pense  of  the  figure-head  would  be  offset  by  the  respect  which 
European  potentates  would  show  a  people  who  enjoyed  the 
blessing  of  a  king.  The  King  still  costs  the  Hawaiian  people 
a  pretty  figure,  though  nothing  like  the  cost  prior  to  the  rev 
olution.  When  the  last  member  of  the  royal  family  died,  the 
funeral  cost  the  tax-payers  $17,000.  One  of  the  items  was 
"817  suits  of  clothes  for  men,  and  900  dresses  for  women." 


BANQUETING   WITH   A   KING.  279 

The  immediate  cause  of  the  revolution  was  Kalakaua's  rascality 
in  what  was  called  the  "  opium  bribe."  A  law  had  been  passed 
to  permit  the  sale  of  opium  upon  payment  of  a  $30,000  license. 
Several  persons  competed  for  the  license,  and  the  price  was 
run  up  to  $70,000.  At  last  a  Chinaman,  T.  Aki,  offered  the 
King  871,000  if  he  would  give  him  the  license.  The  King 
accepted  the  offer,  and  then  coolly  turned  round  and  resold  the 
Jicense  to  another  man  for  $80,000.  Here  is  the  touching 
way  in  which  Aki  conveyed  the  bribe : 

"  0  Lord  of  Heaven  !  here  is  a  small  offering,  a  small  pig  for  breakfast. 
It  would  be  a  good  thing  if  my  royal  master  would  be  pleased  to  accept 
this.  And  here  is  something  small  which  will  be  laid  beside  you,  a  few 
ten-cent  pieces — $30,000 — as  your  servant  has  remembered  and  sent  it, 
and  may  you  be  so  gracious  and  kind  to  me.  And  as  to  those  things  that 
your  servant  spoke  to  your  Majesty,  his  master,  about,  they  will  be  faith 
fully  carried  out,  because  I  am  forever  your  servant ;  and  may  the  bones 
of  your  servant  be  constantly  revived  by  his  high  and  royal  master. 

"T.  AKI." 

On  the  seventh  day  from  this  the  guileless  Aki  sent  his 
Majesty  another  pig,  with  the  trifling  sum  of  $31,000  in  ten- 
cent  pieces.  But  he  did  not  get  the  license,  nor  would  Kalakaua 
return  the  pigs.*  This  created  a  great  deal  of  comment.  Peo 
ple  talked,  and  the  more  they  talked  the  more  grievances  they 
found  they  had.  The  foreign  residents  formed  themselves 
into  a  league,  armed  and  drilled  themselves,  and  on  one  hot 
July  day  made  demands  which  the  King  found  he  was  unable 
to  refuse.  He  yielded  all  that  was  asked,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  her  history  the  little  ocean  kingdom  became  fairly  and  hon 
estly  governed  ;  how  long  it  will  continue  so  is  uncertain.  Al 
ready  the  reform  party  is  splitting  into  factions.  One  faction 
demands  the  dissolution  of  the  military  company,  because  the 

*  Recently  —  October,  1888  —  the  supreme  court  of  the  kingdom  has 
decided  that  the  King  must  refund  the  two  pigs  stuffed  with  $71,000. 
Poor  T.  Aki  died  of  a  broken  heart  over  the  loss  of  his  fortune.  The 
King,  however,  will  pay  over  the  money  to  Aid's  heirs. 


280  THE   TRAMP   AT   HOME. 

members  refuse  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Hawaiian 
Government.  They  will  not  take  the  oath  because  many  are 
Americans,  and  so  would  lose  their  American  citizenship,  which 
they  are  desirous  of  retaining,  intending  to  return  to  the  United 
States  at  some  future  time.  The  other  faction  desires  the  mil 
itary  league  to  continue  in  existence,  with  or  without  the  oath, 
fearing  that  otherwise  the  King  will  regain  his  old  despotic 
power. 

The  Hawaiian  women's  costume,  when  they  wear  any  cos 
tume  at  all,  seems  to  be  a  loose  "  Mother  Hubbard."  The 
trade-winds  blow  over  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  the  result  of 
the  combination  is  interesting.  A  dusky  damsel  who  wishes 
to  shop  or  visit  a  friend  slips  a  Mother  Hubbard  over  her  head, 
ties  a  leis  of  flowers  around  her  neck,  and  sallies  forth.  In 
two  minutes  a  gust  of  wind  comes  along.  The  Mother  nub- 
bard  fills  with  air,  and  expands  in  an  astonishing  manner.  Then 
it  is  that  the  traveller  realizes  how  economical  are  Hawaiian 
women  in  the  matter  of  underwear.  I  have  seen  women  gal 
loping  along  on  horseback,  riding  astride,  a  guitar  in  their 
hands,  and  their  gowns  streaming  in  the  wind  like  a  banner. 

"You  like  this  better  than  the  side-saddle?"  I  asked  a  maid 
who  understood  a  little  English. 

"Yes;  for  by-and-by  horse  get  scared,  and  side-saddle  no 
good." 

"  Why,  then,  don't  you  wear  bloomers?" 

Her  English  did  not  extend  that  far,  so  she  smiled,  and  gal 
loped  on. 

There  was  a  prize-fight  one  night  in  the  public  plaza  oppo 
site  the  King's  palace.  The  plaza  was  filled  with  a  howling 
mob.  The  better  to  view  their  dark,  strange-looking  faces,  I 
retreated  a  short  distance  up  a  narrow  lane,  and  mounted  a 
post  that  I  found  there  planted  against  the  wall  of  the  King's 
garden.  Scarcely  had  I  gained  this  excellent  point  of  observa 
tion  than  I  heard  some  one  bawling  at  me  in  a  barbarous  tongue. 
I  did  not  understand,  and  calmly  continued  on  the  post,  leaning 
against  the  King's  garden  wall,  looking  at  the  crowd. 


BANQUETING   WITH    A    KING. 


281 


"  Hi,  hi!"  shouted  the  voice.  Looking  around,  I  saw  a  black 
soldier  in  a  white  linen  uniform  charging  for  me  with  fixed 
bayonet.  As  Mark  Twain  says,  I  did  not  run,  but  I  sidled 
away  with  some  celerity,  and  made  good  my  escape  by  plunging 
into  the  crowd — an  escape,  as  it  afterwards  appeared,  from  no 
little  danger.  The  president  of  the  Honolulu  Young  Men's 
Christian  Association,  who  on  the  same  night  heard  a  noise  in 


HAWAIIAN   FEMALE   COSTUMES. 

the  King's  garden,  and  climbed  the  post  to  peep  over  and  see 
what  the  noise  was,  had  a  rifle-bullet  whistle  about  his  ears, 
and  was  arrested  by  one  of  the  King's  guard  and  ignomini- 
ously  thrown  into  prison.  He  was  liberated  the  next  morning, 
though  not  without  a  sharp  reprimand  to  curb  his  curiosity, 
and  pry  no  more  over  his  Majesty's  garden  wall. 

"When  one  first  arrives  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  the  long 


282  THE   TfeAMP  AT  HOME. 

string  of  vowels  which  one  hears  is  quite  as  appalling  as  are 
the  consonants  in  Russia.  After  a  short  stay,  however,  the 
rules  of  pronunciation  are  learned ;  then  nothing  is  more  en 
joyable  than  to  roll  out  strings  of  vowels  to  new-comers.  This 
makes  you  feel  very  wise  and  superior,  and  quite  charmed  with 
the  Kanaka  language.  An  Australian  whom  I  met  on  Oahu 
asked  me  if  I  spoke  the  language.  I  replied, 

"  Oahu  Honolulu  Pali  Mahukona  Waikiki  lao  Haleakala." 

The  Australian  did  not  know  that  I  was  merely  repeating 
the  names  of  places  that  I  had  visited.  He  went  on  his  way, 
doubtless  crediting  me  with  being  a  proficient  scholar  in  the 
Hawaiian  tongue. 

On  the  morning  the  Australian  steamer  was  due  I  climbed 
to  the  summit  of  "  Punch-bowl,"  an  eminence  back  of  Hono 
lulu  that  was  formerly  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  From  this 
peak  I  looked  down  on  the  shady  streets  of  the  pretty  Ha 
waiian  capital,  on  the  green  valley  and  mountains,  and  at  the 
black  speck  on  the  ocean,  that  slowly  grew  larger  and  larger, 
and  finally  developed  into  the  great  mail-steamer  from  Australia. 
Business  in  Honolulu  stops  on  steamer-day.  The  whole  town 
pours  itself  down  to  the  dock,  and  when  at  last  the  steamer  is 
anchored,  what  kissing  and  crying  and  laughing  and  howdy- 
doing  take  place !  Among  the  two  thousand  people  that 
swarmed  about  I  noticed  a  young  bridal  couple  descend  the 
gangway.  The  bride  was  coming  to  her  future  home  for  the 
first  time.  A  look  of  distrust  came  over  her  face  as  she  saw 
the  strange,  dark-looking  beings  about  her,  but  a  glance  at  her 
young  husband  restored  her.  These  young  people  were  going 
to  live  on  the  island  of  Maui,  where  they  must  needs  be  very 
much  wrapped  up  in  each  other,  as  there  is  nobody  else  there 
for  them  to  be  "wrapped"  in.  It  is  one  of  the  loneliest  spots 
I  ever  saw. 

Descending  from  Punch-bowl,  I  passed  a  hut,  from  which 
emerged  an  old  negro,  black  as  ink,  but  with  a  snow-white 
fringe  of  wool  on  his  head  and  under  his  chin.  There  was  no 
Kanaka  blood  in  him.  He  was  unmistakably  an  American  darky. 


BANQUETING   WITH   A  KING.  283 

"Lors  a-mnssey,  honey,"  was  his  greeting  as  I  approached, 
"you's  growed  so  I  doan  know  you.  You  was'n  mor'n  dis 
high  when  I  seed  you  las',"  putting  his  hand  three  feet  from 
the  ground. 

"You  know  we  all  grow,  uncle,"  I  said,  apologetically,  for 
having  grown  out  of  his  recollection. 

"  Dat's  de  trufe  ;  dat's  de  Gory  Mighty's  trufe.  But  dis  ole 
nig,  he  doan  grow  no  mo'.  I'se  de  olest  man  in  de  worl'.  I 
kum  to  dis  yer  islan'  a  hunderd  year  ago.  Two  year  ago  I  wuz 
mu'dered  by  a  good-fur-nuffin  Kanaka." 

"Murdered?" 

"Dat's  jes  hit — mu'dered;  dun  dead  fur  foah  long  hours; 
den  I  kum  ter  life  agin.  Good-by,  sah — good-by." 

I  was  told  that  this  old  negro  was  ninety-seven  years  old. 
He  came  to  the  islands  with  the  first  missionaries,  in  1820. 

Before  entering  the  Hawaiian  kingdom,  a  tax  of  two  dollars 
is  collected  from  the  traveller ;  to  get  away  from  the  kingdom, 
he  has  to  pay  only  one  dollar.  A  receipt  for  this  latter  tax, 
however,  will  not  be  given  if  the  applicant  is  in  debt  to  any 
resident  or  native  of  the  kingdom,  nor  will  any  vessel  accept 
him  for  passage  without  a  tax  receipt;  he  is  virtually,  there 
fore,  kept  a  prisoner  until  he  has  paid  his  debts.  Fortunately 
for  me,  my  accounts  were  all  paid,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
obtaining  passage  on  the  mail-steamer  and  returning  to  San 
Francisco. 


284  THE    TRAMP  AT    HOME. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
CONCLUSION. 

LABOR  BUREAUS  SHOW,  BUT  WHO  WILL  IMPROVE,  THE  CONDITION  OF 
LABOR  ? — THE  FIVE  METHODS  COMMONLY  URGED  FOR  BENEFITING 
WORKING-MEN  ONLY  MAKESHIFTS. — THE  REAL  REMEDY. 

SOCIOLOGISTS  and  statisticians,  I  hear  the  reader  say,  may 
show  the  crowded  condition  of  the  poor  in  cities — may  show 
the  low  wages  and  high  cost  of  living  of  working-men — may 
show  how  sewing  and  sales  women  work  fourteen  and  sixteen 
hours  a  day  for  pittances  scarcely  sufficient  to  support  life ; 
they  may  show  all  this,  and  more ;  but,  after  all  is  said,  what 
is  to  be  done  about  it?  How  are  these  bad  conditions  to  be 
bettered  ? 

The  province  of  labor  bureaus  is  merely  to  discover  and  lay 
before  legislators  existing  facts.  Officially,  I  have  no  remedies 
to  offer;  but,  personally,  my  studies  of  the  "labor  question," 
and  my  travels  among  the  laboring  classes,  have  caused  me  to 
consider  several  methods  for  bettering  the  present,  in  many  re 
spects  unhappy,  state  of  affairs.  The  two  principal  remedies 
which  recommend  themselves  to  me,  and  which  will  presently 
be  stated  for  the  reader's  consideration,  are  not  expected  to  be 
a  panacea  for  all  poverty  and  distress ;  for  as  long  as  all  the 
world  is  not  wise  and  strong,  there  must  be  some  who  will 
have  more  than  their  share  of  the  ills  of  life.  I  do  think,  how 
ever,  that  were  these  two  remedies  adopted,  the  division  of  the 
products  of  labor  would  be  fairer,  and  each  citizen  would  come 
nearer  to  obtaining  happiness  in  proportion  to  deserts  than  is 
possible  under  the  present  system. 

Working-men  are  accustomed  to  being  told  to  do  a  number 
of  things  in  order  to  be  prosperous  and  happy.  The  five  things 


CONCLUSION.  285 

most  often  impressed  upon  them  are:"  1.  Organization;  they 
must  organize  into  Unions.  2.  Co-operation  ;  they  must  cease 
giving  the  greater  share  of  their  earnings  to  "  middle-men." 
3.  Education  ;  they  must  educate  themselves,  improve  their  in 
telligence  and  skill,  in  order  to  command  good  wages.  4.  Tem 
perance  ;  they  must  make  the  wages  they  do  get  go  further  by 
spending  them  on  necessaries,  not  on  whiskey.  5.  Economy  and 
industry  ;  they  must  work  hard  and  save,  if  they  wish  to  have 
enough  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  and  so  be  happy. 

These  five  propositions,  I  believe,  embrace  the  principal 
methods  that  are  usually  advanced  as  calculated  to  make  work 
ing-men  happy  and  prosperous.  To  none  of  the  five  have  I 
any  objection  per  se.  In  itself  each  is  good,  each  is  desirable ; 
but  working-men  cannot  learn  too  soon  that  each  and  all  of 
the  five  methods  mentioned  are  mere  makeshifts.  Not  one  of 
the  five,  nor  all  of  the  five  combined,  do  more  than  attempt 
to  remedy  evils  already  created ;  they  do  not  go  to  the  bottom 
of  the  matter  and  seek  to  prevent  the  evil. 

I  will  briefly  review  the  five  methods  commonly  urged  by 
reformers  and  working-men. 

1.  Organization. — As  a  temporary  expedient,  organization 
undoubtedly  protects  the  laborer,  and  lightens  the  load  he  has 
to  bear.  His  unions  are  schools  where  he  learns  to  think,  to 
speak,  and  to  act.  That,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  main  good  ac 
complished  by  labor  organizations.  If  they  succeed  in  raising 
wages,  the  rise,  in  the  nature  of  things,  can  be  only  tempo 
rary,  for  wages,  like  water,  cannot  rise  above  their  level.  Let 
any  particular  line  of  labor  organize  and  raise  wages  above  the 
general  level ;  in  a  short  time  men  are  attracted  into  that  line 
by  the  superior  wages ;  great  numbers  flock  into  it,  and  so  in 
evitably  pull  the  rate  of  pay  down  to  the  general  level  again. 
Only  in  the  very  skilled  trades,  as  bar  mill  rolling,  nail-making, 
etc.,  is  organization  able  to  exact  its  full  due,  fearless  of  threats 
of  outside  competition.  These  are  exceptions,  however,  and 
exceptions  only  to  a  limited  extent;  for  even  in  the  most  skilled 
trades  working-men  may  find  themselves  brought  to  grief  by 


286  THE    TRAMP    AT    HOME. 

outsiders,  as  witness  the  nailers  in  the  troubles  of  1885.  Ob 
stinate  capitalists  kept  their  mills  closed  all  over  the  country 
for  more  than  a  year,  in  which  time  numbers  of  raw  men  were 
taught  the  art  of  making  nails ;  and  when  the  mills  reopened, 
the  old  nailers  found  that,  even  with  their  strong  organiza 
tion  and  skill-protected  trade,  they  were  unable  to  raise  wages 
above  the  general  level,  since  there  were  plenty  of  idle  men 
whom  capitalists  were  willing  to  employ  and  keep,  as  was 
proved,  fourteen  months  to  learn  the  trade. 

2.  Co-operation. — This,  as  a  plan  for  general  relief,  seems  so 
inadequate  that  it  hardly  requires  mention.     Its  benefits  are, 
necessarily,  limited.     Unrestricted  competition   may  be  relied 
upon  to  furnish  buyers  with  goods  at  prices  that  allow  only 
reasonable  charges  for  middle-men.     The  majority  of  people 
buy  in  small  quantities ;  there  must  be  a  retailer  to  supply 
those  small  quantities,  and  of  course  that  retailer  must  be  paid. 
If  consumers  co-operate,  and  employ  some  one  to  direct  the 
distribution  of  their  goods,  they  will  probably  have  to  pay  that 
director  quite  as  much  as  independent  retail  merchants,  with 
reasonable  competition,  charge  for  their  services  and  risk. 

3.  Education. — Another  temporary  expedient.     Let  one  be 
better  educated  than    another,  and   he  will   command  better 
wages.     But  how  does  this  help  all?     If  all  are  equally  well 
educated,  then  none  will  have  the  advantage,  and  competition 
will  prevent  any  from  securing  advanced  wages.     Ten  years 
ago,  in,  Japan,  an  English-speaking  Jap  commanded  much  bet 
ter  pay  than  one  ignorant  of  the  English  language.     Now,  so 
numerous  are  Japs  who  speak  English  that  that  acquirement 
is  of  little  or  no  service  in  commanding  high  wages.     I  do  not 
wish  to  be  understood  as  opposed  to  education,  far  from  it; 
let  every  one  acquire  knowledge,  and  promote  his  happiness  by 
that  method  just  as  far  as  lie  can.     What  I  wish  to  point  out 
is,  that  the  advantages  resulting  from  education  are  generally 
to  be  found  only  when  the  word  "superior"  is  prefixed.     The 
amount  of  knowledge  you  possess  must  not  be  simply  great,  it 
must  also  be  greater  than  that  of  somebody  else.     As  any  per- 


CONCLUSION.  287 

feet  scheme  of  improvement  must  include  not  only  you,  but 
also  that  some  one  else,  the  plea  for  more  education  as  a  means 
of  ultimate  benefit  to  all  falls  through. 

4.  Temperance,  and,  5.  Economy  and  Industry,  I  consider 
together.  That  every  working-man  who  practises  temperance, 
industry,  and  economy  -vyill  be  better  off  than  if  he  does  not 
practise  those  qualities  is  a  self-evident  proposition.  Unfort 
unately,  it  is  not  at  all  self-evident  that  every  workman  who 
is  temperate,  industrious,  and  economical  will  be  ivell  off.  I 
know  hundreds,  and  have  seen  thousands,  of  working-men  who 
combine  all  of  those  three  qualities  without  being  in  the  least 
degree  prosperous.  Witness  this  extract  from  a  report  of  the 
Massachusetts  Bureau  of  Labor  :* 

"In  Boston  a  large  proportion  [of  working-girls]  are  workers  in  shops. 
We  will  take  one  trade,  that  of  tailoresses  and  cloak-makers.  They  go  to 
their  work  at  seven,  almost  always  without  any  warm  breakfast;  they 
work  until  ten,  and  then  have  perhaps  a  few  minutes'  rest,  when  a  little 
teapot  is  set  on  the  range  and  a  lunch  of  dry  food  eaten ;  but  in  most  of 
the  establishments  the  girls  do  not  stop  work  until  twelve,  when  they  are 
allowed  from  thirty  to  sixty  minutes  for  dinner.  Work  ends  at  5  P.M., 
and  many  of  the  girls  take  work  home  with  them,  work  not  ceasing  till 
midnight.  Room-rent  costs  not  less  than  two  to  three  dollars  a  month 
each,  with  often  two  or  more  double  beds  in  the  room.  In  good  shops, 
and  with  brisk  work,  they  can  earn  a  dollar  a  day.  Some  machine-girls 
receive  more  ;  but  the  work  is  very  wearying,  and  induces  spinal  disease. 
One  of  our  largest,  as  well  as  kindest,  merchant  tailors  testifies  to  a  com 
mittee  of  inquiry  that  few  '  machine-girls '  could  work  over  two  years  be 
fore  becoming  so  broken  down  that  they  were  ever  after  unfit  for  labor. 
In  slop- work  shops  girls  can  seldom  earn  more  than  their  room-rent,  except 
by  over-time  work.  In  slack  times  their  sufferings  are  extreme,  girls 
having  been  known  to  work  for  weeks  with  only  water  and  bread  or 
crackers  for  food,  and  fortunate  if  able  to  procure  an  ounce  of  tea.  In 
dull  times  many  have  lived  for  weeks  on  five  cents'  worth  of  stale  bread 
per  week  while  seeking  work.  Those  women  who  take  work  home  from 
the  slop-shops,  Provident,  Aid,  and  other  charitable  societies,  receive  as 
follows :  Shirts,  four  to  seven  cents ;  pants,  fifteen  cents,  twenty  cents, 
and  thirty-seven  cents ;  coats,  fifty  cents.  Of  the  thirty  thousand  women 

*  No.  1,  1870,  p.  360. 


288  THE    Til  AMP    AT    HOME. 

in  and  about  Boston  who  live  by  sewing,  very  few  earn  over  $12  a  week ; 
the  average  wages  do  not  exceed  $2.75.  Paper-box  makers  average  about 
$3  a  week.  Very  few  working-women  of  any  class  ever  have  a  good  bed 
with  sufficient  bed-covering.  Their  wages  will  not  allow  them  to  purchase 
warm  flannel  undergarments,  or  serviceable  shoes,  water-proofs,  etc.  Few 
are  ever  exempt  from  disease  caused  by  scanty  clothing,  innutritions  food, 
and  long-continued  labor  in  deleterious  conditions." 

Here  are  thirty  thousand  wage-workers  who  doubtless,  as  a 
rule,  possess  at  least  four  of  the  five  so-called  requisites  for 
prosperity ;  yet  who  among  the  thirty  thousand,  member  though 
she  be  of  labor  organizations,  industrious,  temperate,  economi 
cal,  can  be  considered  actually  prosperous  ?  When  women 
work  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  ten  at  night,  when  they 
are  sober,  intelligent,  and  economical,  and  still  actually  hunger 
for  bread,  the  plea  that  education,  temperance,  and  economy 
are  the  methods  by  which  labor  is  to  become  prosperous  must 
also  fall  to  the  ground.  What,  then,  will  be  an  ultimate,  as 
well  as  a  present,  benefit  to  working-men  ? 

In  answering  that  question,  I  will  first  ask  one.  AVhy  will 
sewing-women,  cloak-makers,  and  so  on,  work  for  $3  a  week? 
Is  it  not  because  of  the  over-supply  of  labor?  Is  it  not  because 
our  cities  are  teeming  with  unemployed  laborers,  each  grasping 
after  work  at  almost  any  price,  as  a  drowning  man  grasps  at 
straws  ?  If  that  is  so — and  the  most  casual  observer  must  see 
that  it  is — will  not  the  principal  way  of  benefiting  labor  be  by 
reducing  the  amount  of  competition?  The  problem  resolves 
itself,  primarily,  into  that  of  counteracting  and  preventing 
abnormal  concentration  of  population  in  cities.  Sociologists 
who  devise  means  for  the  better  housing  and  care  of  masses 
already  concentrated  in  cities  do  well ;  but  lie  will  do  infinitely 
more  good  who  will  devise  a  means  of  preventing  the  masses 
from  ever  becoming  congested  in  the  cities.  In  1780  less  than 
a  thirtieth  of  our  population  lived  in  cities  of  eight  thousand 
and  over.  A  hundred  years  later,  in  1880,  nearly  one-fourth 
of  the  population  lived  in  cities  of  eight  thousand  and  over. 
What  is  the  cause  of  this  abnormal  congestion  of  population 


CONCLUSION.  289 

into  cities?  I  lay  the  greater  part  of  the  blame  at  the  door  of 
the  protective  tariff  system.  The  Federal  Government  has 
said  to  the  farmer  during  the  greater  part  of  our  national 
existence, 

"Manufacturing  is  not  profitable;  fanning  pays  well;  we 
will  take  part  of  your  profits  to  make  up  the  manufacturer's 
deficit." 

This,  of  course,  is  putting  a  premium  on  manufacturing 
(going  to  towns  and  cities),  and  imposing  a  penalty  on  remain 
ing  in  the  country  on  farms.  Under  this  system  farming  has 
become  so  unprofitable,  farmers  pay  so  much  for  their  goods 
and  get  so  little  for  their  products,  that  they  are  quitting  their 
farms  to  go  to  the  cities;  thus  overcrowding  the  latter,  and 
lowering  wages  by  excessive  competition.  If  the  farmer  were 
allowed  to  buy  his  ploughs,  harrows,  threshers,  lumber,  shoes, 
blankets,  and  a  thousand  other  necessaries  without  paying  a 
heavy  bounty  on  each  article,  farming  might  at  least  be  fairly 
profitable,  and  the  rush  to  cities  would  be  checked.  The  sew 
ing-women  in  Boston,  whose  wages,  according  to  the  Massachu 
setts  Labor  Bureau,  "  will  not  allow  them  to  buy  warm  flannel 
under-garments,"  or  a  "  good  bed  with  sufficient  bed-covering," 
will  be  benefited  in  two  important  ways:  they  will  not  have 
to  suffer  such  sharp  and  unnatural  competition,  and  "  warm 
flannel  underwear"  and  blankets,  free  from  all  tariff  taxes,  will 
be  cheap  enough  for  even  their  meagre  purses.  The  great  labor 
troubles  of  1877  were  a  blessing  in  disguise.  The  artificial 
stimulus  afforded  manufacturing  interests  by  the  tariff  had  been 
in  operation  during  a  long  period.  For  years  the  farming  class, 
unable  to  make  a  living  on  farms,  and  attracted  into  the  manu 
facturing  business  by  Government  bounties,  had  been  crowding 
into  the  cities.*  This  created  excessive  competition.  A  crash 


*  The  Massachusetts  Bureau  of  Labor  Statistics,  No.  4,  page  416,  says, 

"That  the  sons  and  daughters  of  New  England  farmers  are  unwilling 

to  stay  at  home  and  follow  the  fortunes  of  their  fathers  and  mothers,  that 

the  farms  are  being  more  rapidly  sold  than  the  .public  observes — these 

13 


290  THE    TKAMP  AT   HOME. 

was  inevitable ;  it  came,  and  thousands  of  tramps  flooded  the 
country.  Manufacturing,  for  the  time  being,  did  not  pay,  arid 
men  went  back  to  farming.  A  large  percentage  of  the  army 
of  tramps  settled  in  the  wheat-fields  of  Nebraska  and  Kansas, 
and  other  parts  of  the  West,  and  there  was  temporary  relief. 
But  the  unwise  tariffs  are  continued.  The  cotton-planter,  who 
receives  a  minimum  for  his  cotton  in  Liverpool,  but  pays  a 
maximum  for  his  cotton  ties  and  a  thousand  other  articles  to 
American  manufacturers,  still  finds  farming  unprofitable,  and 
still  continues  to  flee  to  the  city.  The  wheat-grower  gets  a 
minimum  for  his  wheat  in  Liverpool,  and  pays  a  maximum  for 
grain  bags,  machinery,  lumber,  and  a  thousand  other  supplies 
in  America  ;  and  he  goes  to  the  city.  The  fruit-grower  gets  so 
little  for  his  fruit,  and  pays  so  much  for  protected  tin  cans,  that 
he  goes  to  the  city.  In  short,  from  every  quarter  there  is  a 
rush  cityward,  which  can  only  be  checked  by  making  farming 
more  attractive  and  profitable.  It  would  be  more  profitable 
were  it  relieved  of  paying  the  manufacturers'  bounties;  there 
fore,  the  first  step,  not  only  for  cheapening  the  necessities  of 
life  to  the  working-man,  but  also  of  lessening  the  number  of 
his  competitors,  is  to  cease  governmental  premiums  to  dwellers 
in  cities  and  penalties  to  dwellers  on  farms. 

I  come  now  to  my  second  remedy — a  graduated  land-tax. 

At  bottom,  all  wages  practically  depend  upon  the  amount  of 
unoccupied  land  that  is  easily  accessible.  Let  land  be  scarce, 
either  from  density  of  population  or  from  large  private  appro 
priations,  and  poverty  is  bound  to  follow.  Unskilled  labor  can 
always  command,  at  the  least,  wages  equal  to  the  amount  that 


lamentable  results  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  low  pay  and  scant  oppor 
tunities  of  the  New  England  farmer  mean — poverty." 

The  same  volume  gives  some  exceedingly  valuable  and  significant  sta 
tistics  upon  the  hegira  from  the  farms  of  Massachusetts  to  the  cities  and 
factory  towns.  The  same  movement  prevails  in  the  rest  of  the  Union. 
Wages  in  cities  will  constantly  tend  downward  until  that  movement  is 
checked  by  relieving  the  farmer  of  the  heavy  burdens  at  present  imposed 
upon  him. 


CONCLUSION.  291 

can  be  derived  from  the  nearest  unoccupied  land.  In  Portland, 
Oregon,  the  average  wages  of  unskilled  labor  was  for  some  time 
$2  a  day.  Several  years  ago,  when  employers  cut  wages  to 
$1.50,  the  laborers  resisted.  In  the  neighborhood  of  Portland 
were  marshy  tracts  which  the  laborers  found,  by  draining  and 
cultivating,  would  yields  them,  on  the  average,  $2  a  day.  When 
the  employers  attempted  to  make  the  cut  to  $1.50,  their  men 
struck,  and  went  to  work  reclaiming  the  marshes.  Of  course, 
no  one  was  willing  to  work  in  Portland  for  $1.50  when  he 
could  earn  $2  in  a  garden  ;  hence  employers  were  compelled  to 
continue  paying  the  old  rate.  A  few  years  later,  however,  when 
they  again  made  a  fifty-cent  cut,  and  when  their  men  looked 
around  for  gardens  to  cultivate,  it  was  found  that  all  the  gardens 
were  appropriated.  What  could  the  laboring  men  in  Portland 
do  ?  They  could  not  starve ;  there  was  no  ground  easily  accessible; 
they  did  the  only  thing  they  could  do — they  accepted  $1.50. 

This  is  but  an  illustration  of  the  important  part  land  plays 
in  the  wage  question.  It  is  the  most  important  factor.  The 
thousands  of  unemployed  men  in  San  Francisco  and  other  Cal 
ifornia  cities  are  ready  to  work,  are  anxious  to  make  a  respect 
able,  honorable  living;  but  they  are  not  allowed  to  go  to  a 
portion  of  the  vast  unoccupied  territory  around  them  and  com 
mand  a  living  from  the  soil,  from  Nature.  No,  that  vast  terri 
tory,  though  unoccupied,  is  appropriated,  and  the  working-man 
must  stay  in  the  cities  and  starve,  or  accept  the  wages  that  are 
offered  him.  Along  the  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad, 
miles  from  any  cabin  or  house,  are  town  lots  staked  out  and 
held,  awaiting  increased  population.  One  town  laid  out  on 
the  edge  of  the  Mohave  Desert  miles  from  any  human  habita 
tion,  has  water-pipes  laid  on  the  principal  streets,  cement  side 
walks,  lamp-posts  at  the  intersection  of  the  well-graded  streets, 
and  even  a  street-car  track — all  this  before  there  is  a  single  in 
habitant.  These  speculative  schemes,  of  course,  operate  to 
keep  working-men  penned  up  in  cities.  In  Colusa  County, 
California,  477,000  acres  are  owned  by  one  hundred  and  twen 
ty-nine  men.  Dr.  Glenn  alone  owns  55,000  acres. 


292  THE    TEAMP   AT   HOME. 

"To  cultivate  these  extensive  tracts,"  says  Ruskin,  in  his 
"Letters  to  Working-men,"  "much  machinery  is  used,  such 
as  steam-ploughs,  gauge-ploughs,  reaping,  mowing,  sowing,  and 
threshing  machines,  and  seemingly  to  the  utter  extermination 
of  the  spirit  of  rural  life.  Gangs  of  laborers  are  hired  during 
the  emergency  of  harvesting,  and  they  are  left,  for  the  most 
part,  unhoused,  and  are  fed  more  like  animals  than  like  men. 
Harvesting  over,  they  are  discharged,  and  thus  are  left  at  the 
beginning  of  their  long  winters  to  shift  for  themselves;  conse 
quently,  the  large  towns  and  cities  are  infested  for  months  with 
idle  men  and  boys.  House-breaking  and  highway  robbery  are 
of  almost  daily  occurrence.  As  to  the  farmers  themselves,  they 
live  in  a  dreary,  comfortless  way." 

It  is  not  alone  in  the  monopoly-cursed  States  of  the  Pacific 
coast  that  land  is  becoming  centred  in  the  hands  of  the  few. 
In  1881,  Hamilton  Disston,  a  Philadelphian,  bought  4,000,000 
acres  of  land  in  Florida,  paying  therefor  $2  an  acre.  "  The 
land,"  says  Harper's  Weekly  of  July  16,  1881,  "was  bought 
for  speculation." 

In  1882  the  Texas  Land  and  Cattle  Company,  of  Dundee, 
Scotland,  bought  in  one  purchase  240,000  acres  of  Texas  land. 
On  April  20,  1882,  it  was  announced  through  the  public  press 
that  a  syndicate  had  formed  to  purchase  7,000,000  acres  of 
Texas  Panhandle  lands.  A  Mr.  B.  H.  Evers,  of  London,  bought, 
a  few  years  ago,  1,000,000  acres  of  land  in  Mississippi.  In 
1881  a  company  was  formed  to  buy  20,000  acres  of  farming 
land  in  Ohio.  An  Englishman  by  the  name  of  Scully  is  said 
to  draw  an  annual  income  of  nearly  half  a  million  dollars  from 
lands  owned  in  Illinois.  Englishmen  own  large  land  estates  in 
Iowa  and  other  middle  Western  States.  In  cities,  single  men, 
like  Vanderbilt  and  Astor,  own  hundreds  of  lots  and  houses.* 
These  instances  suffice  to  show  that  there  are  even  now  vast 

*  "  Rents  [in  New  York]  are  so  enormous  that  the  space  of  every  woman 
employed  by  us  may  be  said  to  represent  simply  so  many  cubic  feet  in 
gold  coin."  This  statement  of  a  New  York  manufacturer  is  quoted  in 
Helen  Campbell's  "Prisoners  of  Poverty,"  p.  68. 


CONCLUSION.  293 

territories  in  the  hands  of  single  persons  and  corporations,  and 
that  there  is  a  tendency  to  continue  in  that  direction.  Would 
not  a  graduated  land-tax  check  this  tendency  ? 

The  attempt  to  increase  taxation  as  income  and  general  wealth 
increases  has,  perhaps,  properly  failed  to  command  approval 
because  tending  to  pub  a  damper  on  the  ambition  of  men  to 
become  millionaires.  A  man  who  becomes  a  millionaire  by 
building  ten  hotels,  or  by  producing  ten  crops  of  wheat,  is  a 
benefit  to  society  at  large ;  and  it  would  be  against  public  policy 
to  impose  a  heavy  tax  on  an  eleventh  hotel  should  he  build  one, 
or  on  an  eleventh  crop  of  wheat.  These  things  are  produced; 
their  quantity  can  be  increased  or  diminished.  It  is  better  that 
they  should  be  increased,  hence  should  not  be  taxed  more  than 
necessary.  But  land  is  not  produced.  Man  cannot  increase  or 
diminish  it.  There  is  a  certain  fixed  quantity  of  land;  hence 
it  follows  that  the  greater  the  share  appropriated  by  one  man, 
the  less  there  remains  to  be  divided  among  his  neighbors ; 
hence  it  is  policy  to  restrict  each  man's  appropriation  of  land 
within  a  reasonable  degree.  It  would  be  better  for  society  if 
each  man  owned  exactly  the  amount  of  land  necessary  for  com 
fortably  supporting  existence — this  much,  and  no  more.  A 
graduated  land-tax  would  in  part  secure  this  result.  Let  the 
rate  of  taxation  on  land  rapidly  increase  as  the  amount  held  by 
one  owner  exceeds  the  fair  and  reasonable  requirements  of  one 
family. 

Congress,  by  its  Homestead  and  Pre-emption  laws,  recog 
nized  the  danger  of  allowing  land  to  become  centred  in  the 
hands  of  the  few,  and  endeavored  to  avoid  the  danger  by  lim 
iting  the  amount  of  land  pre-empted  by  a  single  person  to  160 
acres.  How  futile  this  scheme  has  proved  every  one  familiar 
with  the  question  knows.  "Dummies"  are  employed  to  take 
up  claims.  The  title  secured  from  the  Government,  these  "dum 
mies"  sell  out  for  a  song  to  their  employers.  Thus  recently, 
in  Humboldt  County,  California,  a  single  corporation  bought 
the  claims  of  one  hundred  and  fourteen  "dummies,"  and  thus 
at  one  stroke  18,240  acres  of  public  land,  which  Congress 


294  THE    TRAMP    AT   HOME. 

thought  the  pre-emption  laws  had  secured  to  individual  set 
tlers,  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  single  corporation  or  owner.  A 
graduated  land-tax  could  not  be  escaped  by  "  dummies."  The 
moment  that  18,240  acres  became  vested  in  the  name  of  a  sin 
gle  company  or  individual,  that  moment  would  the  tax  on  all, 
except  a  small  portion  necessary  for  the  reasonable  require 
ment  of  one  family,  become  so  heavy  that  the  grasping  specu 
lator  would  be  either  obliged  to  sell,  or  else  cultivate  it  to  the 
highest  point,  in  order  to  be  able  to  pay  the  taxes.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  hold  that  enormous  tract  for  future 
high  prices,  keeping  in  the  mean  time — perhaps  for  years — 
a  host  of  men  from  making  a  comfortable  and  honorable 
living. 

There  would  be  no  check  on  a  corporation's  putting  a  mill 
ion-dollar  factory  on  a  piece  of  land,  thus  giving  employment 
to  hundreds,  and  adding  to  the  general  stock  of  wealth ;  but 
there  would  be  a  check  on  that  class  of  corporations  which 
buys  up  land  in  both  town  and  country,  to  tie  it  up  for  years, 
awaiting  increased  population  and  increased  prices.  That  such 
a  check  is  needed,  even  in  the  sparsely  settled  West,  is  shown 
by  the  clamors  beginning  to  arise  in  California  and  other 
Western  States  about  over-population.  Think  of  California, 
with  a  territory  sixteen  times  greater  than  that  of  Belgium, 
but  with  less  than  a  fifth  of  her  population,  as  over-populated ! 
Working-men's  unions  in  San  Francisco  recently  clubbed  to 
gether,  not  only  to  prevent  Chinese  from  coming  into  the 
State,  but  also  to  keep  out  immigration  of  all  other  kinds. 
"  Every  new-comer,"  they  say,  "  competes  with  us,  and  lowers 
our  wages;  so  let  us  keep  out  new-comers."  It  is  not  quite 
so  bad  as  that;  not  every  immigrant  competes  with  the  city 
wage  -  worker,  for  a  few  brave  frontier  life  and  the  dampers 
put  on  farming  by  tariff  bounties,  and  make  for  themselves  a 
living  from  the  soil.  Nevertheless,  it  is  true  that  a  large  num 
ber  of  the  new-comers,  unable  to  pay  the  fancy  speculative 
prices  for  land,  and  also  deterred  from  becoming  farmers  by 
the  heavy  tariff  taxes,  settle  in  cities  and  towns,  and  thus,  as  the 


CONCLUSION.  295 

trades-unions  assert,  by  sharp  competition  reduce  wages  and 
the  standard  of  living. 

But  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  graduated  land-tax 
idea,  no  one  can  successfully  dispute  that  high  tariffs  are  largely 
responsible  for  the  concentration  of  population  in  cities.  Let 
working-men  once  thoroughly  understand  that  the  keen  compe 
tition  they  suffer — resulting  in  starvation  wages — is  the  result 
of  the  very  system  alleged  to  be  instituted  for  their  benefit,  and 
the  whole  protection  scheme  will  burst  like  a  pricked  bubble. 
As  long  as  ten  working-men  try  to  fill  nine  places,  wages  will 
be  low.  And,  as  I  have  stated,  after  a  wide  survey  of  the 
industrial  field  both  in  this  country  and  in  Europe,  the  only 
way  to  really  and  permanently  benefit  all  is  not  by  unions  and 
organizations  (good  as  those  methods  are  as  temporary  expe 
dients),  but  by  making  for  ten  men  ten  places  instead  of  only 
nine  places. 

This  can  be  done  by  checking  the  rush  of  farmers  to  cities, 
and  by  the  prevention  of  an  artificial  scarcity  of  land  through 
unjust  land  appropriations.  With  land  open  to  settlement, 
the  tenth  man  will  command  a  living  from  the  soil,  instead 
of,  as  now,  seeking  to  wedge  himself  into  a  place  only  largo 
enough  for  nine. 

There  are  two  things  I  hate  to  see :  I  hate  to  see  a  billion 
aire,  a  man  with  more  money  than  he  knows  what  to  do  with, 
more  food  than  he  can  eat  in  a  thousand  years,  more  clothing 
than  he  can  wear  if  he  lives  to  be  as  old  as  Methuselah,  more 
houses  than  he  can  occupy  if  he  multiplies  himself  a  hundred 
fold.  I  hate  to  see  a  man  thus  overloaded  with  wealth. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  hate — it  sickens  my  very  soul — to  see 
a  homeless,  friendless,  foodless  tramp  :  a  poor  devil,  gaunt, 
ragged,  cold,  slinking  through  life  despised,  barked  at  by  the 
very  dogs  in  rich  men's  backyards.  We  think  we  live  in  a 
Christian  country,  call  ourselves  followers  of  Ilim  who  said, 

"The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests; 
but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head." 

If  this  was  pitiful,  pathetic  in  the  mild  clime  of  Palestine, 


296  THE  .TKAMP   AT   HOME. 

how  much  more  pitiful,  how  cruelly  pathetic  in  this  land  of 
snow  and  ice  and  bleak  winds !  The  same  false  conditions  of 
society,  of  law,  of  government  which  creates  billionaires  also 
creates  tramps.  I  utterly  refuse  to  believe  God  ever  intended 
either  class  to  exist.  I  feel  certain  that  when  we  have  wiser 
laws,  wiser  customs,  wiser  and  juster  government,  billionaires 
and  tramps  will  alike  cease  to  be.  Under  a  wiser  and  juster 
condition  of  affairs,  we  will  not  see  our  women  grinding  out 
their  lives  making  shirts  at  fifty  cents  a  dozen ;  nor  will  we 
see  little  children  tortured  in  the  treadmill  of  factories — chil 
dren  who  should  live  in  the  open  air,  playing  on  the  bosom  of 
Mother  Earth.  If  there  is  a  sight  on  earth  to  make  angels 
weep,  it  is  the  sight  of  little  children  in  factories,  the  martyrs 
of  labor,  the  martyrs  of  poverty,  of  unjust  laws,  of  unjust  cus 
toms,  of  unjust  and  unwise  government ! 

High  taxation,  in  the  shape  of  "Protective"  tariffs,  and 
large  land  appropriations  may  not  play  the  important  part  in 
impoverishing  the  people  which  I  think  they  do  :  what,  then, 
are  the  principal  factors  which  produce  a  society  containing 
those  two  excrescences — billionaires  and  tramps? 

Whatever  those  factors  are,  whether  high  tariffs  and  large 
land  appropriations,  or  factors  not  suspected  by  me,  they  must 
be  found,  and  either  changed  or  totally  eliminated. 

That  those  factors  will  be  found,  I  feel  certain  :  I  feel 
equally  certain  that,  when  found,  they  will  be  changed  from 
factors  of  evil  to  factors  of  good.  It  cannot  be  that  God  in 
tends  some  men  and  women  to  idle  in  luxury,  while  other  men 
and  women  toil  and  starve.  The  day  is  bound  to  come  when 
society,  laws,  government  will  be  wise  enough  and  just  enough 
to  permit  each  and  every  citizen  to  retain  and  enjoy  the  wealth 
he  himself  has  created. 

When  that  day  comes,  society  will  cease  to  be  vexed  with 
the  "  Labor  Question,"  and  the  billionaire  and  the  tramp 
will  go. 


A   TRAMP  TRIP. 

How  to  See  Europe  on  Fifty  Cents  a  Day.  By  LEE 
MERIWETHER.  With  Portrait,  pp.  276.  12mo, 
Ornamental  Cloth,  $1  25. 


"In  the  garb  of  a  working-man  Mr.  Meriwether  spent  a  year  on  a  tramp 
trip  from  Gibraltar  to  the^Bosporus.  His  book  overflows  with  entertain 
ing  incidents  and  amusing  descriptions,  and  it  is  of  particular  value  in  its 
hints  and  suggestions  to  would-be  pedestrians,  and  to  others  who  wish  to 
travel  wisely  and  economically." 

An  uncommonly  interesting  volume. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

The  book  is  full  of  interesting  incidents  and  accidents  that  befell  the 
writer  on  his  trip,  and  contains  many  entertaining  stories  of  the  manner  of 
life  of  the  peasants,  as  well  as  many  facts  and  figures  on  the  much  dis 
cussed  "  Labor  Question." — Independent,  N.  Y. 

The  book  is  altogether  quite  out  of  the  range  of  and  above  ordinary 
volumes  of  travel,  and  will  give  a  fair,  comprehensive  idea  of  the  hard 
labor  and  miserable  poverty  of  the  European  masses.  To  do  this  was 
worth  all  the  trials  and  hardships  of  the  plucky  explorer,  who  seems  to 
have  enjoyed  his  uncomfortable  days  with  a  light  heart. — Nation,  N.  Y. 

There  is  not  a  dull  page  in  the  whole  book  ;  the  style  is  simple  and  per 
spicuous,  the  portrayal  of  character  keen  and  incisive,  the  deductions  from 
facts  clear  and  logical,  and  no  one  who  reads  it  can  help  envying  a  man 
who  succeeded  in  seeing  so  much  that  many  travellers  have  passed  by 
.without  notice,  and  who  has  been  able  to  give  us  such  graphic  pictures  of 
the  home  life  and  the  simple  manners  and  customs  of  toiling  millions  be 
yond  the  sea. — Philadelphia  Record. 

Every  one  interested  in  travel  or  fond  of  out-door  sport  will  enjoy  it 
immensely. — Boston  Globe. 

Is  as  bright  and  wide-awake  in  its  style  as  it  is  unique  in  its  subject. 
— Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

All  of  it  is  intensely  interesting,  and  we  congratulate  the  young  fellow 
that  has  pluck  enough  to  carry  out  such  a  remarkable  scheme. —  Troy  Press. 

There  will  be  hundreds,  thousands  who  will  go  abroad  next  summer  to 
whom  this  book  may  give  advice  of  a  very  useful  sort. — Brooklyn  Times. 

A  thoroughly  readable  and  entertaining  book.  .  .  .  The  writer  put  on 
blouse  and  knapsack  and  wandered  through  parts  of  Italy  and  Germany 
and  Russia,  seeking  the  humblest  lodgings  and  putting  up  with  the  least 
inviting  fare  in  order  to  be  near  the  people,  to  see  them  in  their  homes,  to 
learn  hoi*  they  earned  their  daily  bread  and  how  they  ate  it,  and  to  get  at 
their  views  of  life.  With  sharp  eyes  and  a  ready  wit  and  a  robust  diges 
tion,  he  saw  many  things  which  the  ordinarv  traveller  would  never  notice 
or  indeed  care  to  see,  and  he  has  written  about  them  in  a  gay  and  jovial 
vein. — W.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTH ERS,  NEW  YORK. 

The  above  work  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States 
or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  jrrice. 


FROM  THE  FORECASTLE  TO  THE  CABIN. 

By  Captain  S.  SAMUELS.     Illustrated,     pp.  xviii.,  308. 
12mo,  Extra  Cloth,  $1  50. 


"  The  record  of  a  life  of  stirring  adventure.  Captain  Samuels  began 
his  career  by  running  away  to  sea  at  the  age  of  eleven  years  as  a  cabin- 
boy;  at  twenty-one  he  was  captain  of  a  fine  ship,  and  he  retired  from 
the  active  pursuit  of  his  profession  when  commander  of  the  famous  clip 
per  Dreadnought.  He  tells  his  experiences  in  tempests  and  mutinies,  in 
fights  with  pirates  and  street  ruffians,  in  romantic  escapades,  in  collisions, 
and  in  battles  with  cannibals.  As  a  yachting  commander,  Captain  Sam 
uels  sailed  the  Henrietta,  which  won  the  ocean  sweepstakes  in  1866,  and 
he  commanded  the  Dauntless  in  her  race  with  the  Coronet" 


"  Captain  Samuels  has  given  me  the  privilege  of  reading  the  proof-sheets 
of  the  following  pages,  and  has  asked  me  to  introduce  him  to  the  public. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  a  more  unnecessary  ceremony.  '  Good  wine  needs  no 
bush,'  and  'From  the  Forecastle  to  the  Cabin'  has  not  a  dull  line  in  it. 
The  art  of  telling  a  story  is,  after  all,  as  an  Irishman  would  say,  a  gift, 
and  Captain  Samuels  certainly  has  that  gift.  I  read  to  some  friends  of 
not  uncritical  disposition  the  tale  to  be  found  in  chapters  twelve  and  thir 
teen,  and  they  paid  it  the  rare  compliment  of  asking  to  hear  it  again  the 
next  evening.  In  fact,  a  volume  crowded  with  so  much  and  such  various 
incidents,  graphically  told,  could  not  fail  to  be  interesting." — BISHOP  POT 
TER'S  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 

A  vivid  picture  of  life  on  shipboard,  and  a  stirring  narrative  of  personal 
experience.  .  .  .  Bishop  Potter  well  says  that  the  book  has  not  a  dull  line 
in  it.  The  captain  has  the  art  of  telling  a  story  in  high  perfection. — 
N.  Y.  Tribune. 

The  story  is  full  of  interest  and  excitement.  ...  It  is  a  charming  book. 
— N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  book  is  one  of  great  interest.  ...  It  is  the  story  of  a  famous  and 
able  sailor,  told  by  himself  in  his  own  way,  and  has  incident  enough  to 
fix  the  attention  and  set  going  the  imagination  of  anybody. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

It  will  take  the  front  rank  among  the  books  of  adventure  on  the  sea. — 
Boston  Courier. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

The  above  work  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  State* 
or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


TURN 


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